


like thunder under earth

by borzbois



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (mostly), ADHD Jamie, Canon Autistic Character, Canon Compliant, F/M, Medium Burn, Mutual Pining, Neurodiversity, Past manipulation, Pining, Platonic Bed Sharing, Satya Vaswani tells Vishkar to fuck off, Self-Acceptance, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Smut, Vishkar Corporation, idiots to lovers, in no uncertain terms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-08-29 15:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16747006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borzbois/pseuds/borzbois
Summary: ain’t it warming you, the world goin’ up in flames? ain’t it the life of you, your lighting of the blaze? //Satya struggles to adjust to her new life out of the claws of Vishkar, but severed ties leave loose ends. Ones that Vishkar intends to remedy.





	1. ain't it a gentle sound

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to really explore a Symmrat where there was a lot of interaction and bonding over neurodiversity, because I feel like that’s a really cool facet to their relationship that isn’t explored nearly enough. I also wanted to contribute to our wonderful Symmrat community with a new idea! 
> 
> this fic (and especially chapter one) is inspired by nfwmb by hozier.

Satya knows she isn’t entirely welcome here. 

She knows the whispers they think she doesn’t hear as she passes in the hallway, that echo like gunshots in her ears. She recognizes the barely contained contempt in their eyes, only because it is the same way the other children used to look at her. She sees the way they talk and laugh around each other, the warmth they share, and how cold her presence was by contrast.

She knows she isn’t welcome here and she accepts that. Sociability has never been her strong suit, and she has learned to accept her flaws and accentuate her strengths. What she lacks in conversation, she makes up for in brilliance.

When Satya is hard at work at her station, she doesn’t hear the silence that may be deafening to others. Her ears pleasantly buzz as designs blaze through her mind. Quickly, efficiently, like a mantra: _pull here, rotate sixty, touch and —_ she has created a sufficient stash of weapons for tomorrow’s mission. She sits down, elegant script flowing from her hand as she notes some possible improvements for her designs. She can always see imperfections, things that Sanjay scoffed at her for worrying about. But it provides her with a pleasant distraction from the rest of the base, gives her a reason as to why she doesn’t talk to the rest of the team much.

She knows they don’t trust her. She has accepted that. She trusts no one, and it would be quite hypocritical for her to expect anyone else to do the contrary.

Satya sighs as the pleasant buzz that had distracted her from the sounds of the workshop fades, and she is overwhelmed with the sudden sounds of Torbjorn’s hammer as it clinks against metal. Erratic, with no pattern or sense to it. She winces as the sounds permeate deeper and deeper, and she fiddles with a tool on her desk for a moment before leaving the workshop without a word.

The hallways of the Gibraltar base are narrow and uncomfortable. She cannot pass someone in the hall without being touched, whether it’s a brush of the shoulders or an awful shuffle of hips as they both try to hug the wall. It further agitates the buzzing on her skin, the discomfort in her chest. She sets her jaw and walks as quickly as she can into her room, hoping for a breath of relief from the cacophony of laughter and conversation that echoes through the halls.

Of course, the walls are thin and she can still hear it. Even muffled, she can’t help but focus on it to the point of insanity.

Satya gives a frustrated sigh, slinking out of her too-tight work clothes and into the cool softness of her covers. She plugs in her heavy-duty earplugs, originally designed for construction work, and curls on herself in the comfort of her bed. The silence and the weight of her blankets seep into her, relaxing her whole body, washing over the buzzing feeling in her skin until there is nothing left.

She stays this way for a while, practicing her meditation techniques, breathing in and out. Eventually, her body feels as though it is adrift a soft sea, her head a pleasant tingle of weightlessness.

She feels more than hears her phone go off, vibrating intensely against the nightstand and rattling against it. She sighs as she looks at it, slowly pulling out her earplugs. At least the noise is tolerable now, and not so overwhelming as it once was. She pulls on her clothes and brushes out her hair, readying herself for the fit of restlessness she will surely suffer. She tosses a small cube in her pocket, something grounding to focus on when the chatter inevitably becomes deafening.

At first, she assumes the meeting is a briefing for the upcoming mission to Egypt, a small team of covert ops to scout before the larger offense squad would come several weeks later.  But everyone is here, which leaves Satya furrowing her brow.

Thankfully, the chatter is quiet, and it isn’t long before Winston ambles up to the front of the room to begin speaking.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice everyone,” he says, clearing his throat. “We finally got the paperwork through for our two newest recruits!”

Satya feels her eye twitch as she watches the two new recruits walk to the front of the room. Every step they took, uneven and out of sync,  brings a new sound that deafens her ears. She slides her hand into the pocket of her slacks to calm herself.

They’re dirty, she notices, covered in dust and grime. The smell of heavy smoke drifts over to her, though it’s not entirely unpleasant, like a campfire. They likely haven’t seen a shower since they crawled out of whatever hole they’re from. One has prosthetics, a collection of haphazardly put together scrap. She trails her eyes up to survey him, before she locks eyes with his ominously golden ones.

For a moment, she forgets that staring like she is isn’t considered polite, until he breaks out in a sneer.

Satya averts her eyes quickly, choosing instead to stare at the toy in her lap that she fiddles with, pressing the points to her fingers until they hurt.

“Some of you may know them,” Winston says, his words punctuated by the chatter among the agents, “and their work here will be helping them to get a clean slate, like many of you had with the original Overwatch. Please welcome them.”

She hears more than sees them shuffle awkwardly. The larger man’s rasping wheezes irritate her as if they were knives sawing into her ears. The other’s prosthetics click and groan as he fiddles with them, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

“‘M Junkrat,” says the one she shared uncomfortable eye contact with, still fiddling with a loose screw in his arm.

“Roadhog,” the other one wheezes.

“Now,” Winston continues, gesturing for them to shuffle into a seat. They pick one across the room from her, easily accessible to plop down in. “Junkrat is a demolitions expert, and Roadhog is a close range fighter.”

Satya focused on the toy in her hands, making patterns in her fingers with the indents the corners made. It helps, though the restless noise from everyone else makes it hard to focus on Winston’s words. She’s glad she set her auto-transcriber on today, so she can actually read the briefing in the sanctity of her room, when her mind isn’t clouded. She appreciates Winston’s attempts to accommodate her as well, fielding all questions and concerns via email so he can discuss them at the next meeting. This way she can give input, something she wasn’t great at doing verbally.

The briefing is eventually over, and Satya heads to the cafeteria to eat a quick dinner before she heads to her room. Usually, she would end the night with a bit more time in the workshop, but she needs the extra self-care today. Dinner is bland European food with a texture that makes her shiver. She tries to focus on other things so that she can get a full meal in.

Satya watches her team members file in, chatting animatedly as they go to their respective tables. _Just like the school cafeteria,_ she thinks, and stifles a sardonic grin at the thought. People watching is a favored activity of hers — all the benefits of learning and experiencing social nuances without having to exhaust herself trying to keep up. She is so caught up assessing that she doesn’t notice the awkward shuffling coming towards her.

“Hey, mate, can we sit here?”

Satya looks up, surprised to find the new Junkers awkwardly holding trays piled precariously with food. She nods, she knows there is nowhere else to sit, unless they enjoy feeling out of place, unwelcome, like an intruder.

She knows it’s not on purpose. That Overwatch was a large family once upon a time, and it was hard not to fall back into those roles. She knows they don’t purposefully exclude her, to make her to listen to their happy chatter while their backs are turned to her. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Oi, Hog,” Junkrat says, mouth open and practically drooling. “When’s the last time we had a spread like this? Been ages!”

“Since Sydney,” Roadhog says, his voice deep and vibrating through her bones. She doesn’t mind it so much as she did earlier. The low timbre is a pleasant static in the buzz of the chattering cafeteria.

They eat in a way that Satya can only describe as starved. They shovel food into their mouths without chewing much, Junkrat groaning at the taste of a hot, fresh meal. Roadhog lifts up his masks to eat, occasionally pausing to breathe heavily through the air filters installed in them. They seem to enjoy even the bland, flavorless mush. Satya eyes them with humor, stifling a chuckle under her hand.

She forgets that she’s staring again, until his eyes snap up to hers. The gold in them almost seems like it’s glowing, bright and intense like flames.

“Oi,” he says around a mouth full of a hard biscuit, “why’re y’starin’ at me?”

“I’m sorry,” Satya replies immediately, her gaze sinking back to her hands in her lap. “I don’t mean to be rude. I struggle with…social appropriateness.”

“Wha’ssat mean?”

Satya hums, lifting her eyes to watch as his hands continue to work at the food on his plate. She notices that despite the…general chaos he seems to bring, this is methodical, repetitive. He makes sure he has a little bit of everything at once, perfect portioning for each bite. She does that same.

She’s also never been asked that before.

“Where most people instinctively understand social norms and boundaries, I don’t. I have to teach myself and constantly remind myself to conform to them. Sometimes I forget myself and it results in inappropriate behavior, such as staring. I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

The words are clumsy as they slip out of her mouth. Satya has explained it so many times to herself, and heard it explained to her, but she’s never put the words out so someone else could understand.

There’s a palpable silence that makes her nervous, and she can feel the anxiety creeping up in her bones. She imagines what Sanjay would think if he could see her now, apologizing to a Junker. He would be disgusted with her.

But then Junkrat lets out a raucous laugh, drawing the attention of just about everyone in the cafeteria. Even Roadhog lets out a chuckle, deep and rattling. Satya jumps, startled at the sudden noise and wrings her hands together tighter.

“Naw, sheila,” he says, pointing at her with a chicken bone in hand, “don’t y’sweat it. Y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. Worryin’ ‘bout what people think a’ya is fer suits.”

Satya isn’t sure what that means, but she finds comfort in this small interaction. Of course, that is nothing compared to the uncomfortable attention from everyone else in the room, staring and whispering. For once, it bothers her more than she can bear.

“Well, I appreciate that,” Satya says, smoothly rising from the table and taking her tray. “Thank you. I will see you both at a later time. Good night.”

“G’night!” Junkrat shouts excitedly around the food in his mouth, barely looking up at her from his plate. Roadhog gives her a grunt, which she interprets as his own version of goodbye.

Once she gets into her room, Satya allows herself a warm bath with oils and fragrance. She sinks into the relaxing water, reading a favorite book, it’s pages worn and yellowed with age. Print books were rare in this era, and she recalls fondly that it was a present for graduation from Vishkar Academy. The pages smell like home, comfort wrapped in familiar words she has gazed upon hundreds of time,  the story never failing to envelop her.

It’s a calm night, the halls muted and her neighbors quiet. Satya sets her book down and leans her head back onto the lip of the tub, soaking in the gentle candlelight and the sounds of white noise.

Satya wonders what would have happened if she hadn’t left Vishkar. It was a direction her daydreams took her down frequently, and part of her still grieves that loss. She knows that Vishkar used her, that Vishkar did not value her or want to care for her special needs. They used her for her brilliance, and degraded her for her every other flaw. They broke her spirit down until she was nothing but a Vishkar puppet, her will stitched by their hand.

She refuses to be that person anymore.

“Never again,” she murmurs to herself, swirling at the water with her fingers.

Satya struggles with fitting in here, a newcomer among longtime friends, someone who once aided in the side of injustice among a crowd of heroes. She understand their trust issues - doesn’t blame them at all, but it doesn’t take away the numbness that comes with a lack of meaningful relationships. But it was a numbness she has known for many years, and she would shoulder it in order to redeem herself.

A gentle smile unfurls on her face, thinking of the two new faces she made today.

“Besides, I may find my place here yet.”


	2. where i end and begin still belongs to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the fastest i've shelled out a chapter after a release, like...ever.

Satya’s mornings begin with yoga in the light of the rising sun. She breathes in evenly through her sun salutations, watching the sky brighten before her in the dozens of floor-to-ceiling windows that decorate the facility gym. She has always been early to rise, and she has always reveled in the still quiet of the early morning. Everyone else is asleep, and she doesn’t have to worry about their chatter. She has the place to herself for a while, and she'll take it while she can.

It's a particularly beautiful view, the gym opening to the landscape of the sea, framing the distant mountains, the tops dusted in snow from the early European fall. She isn’t a fan of the chill, much better acclimated to sweltering heat and humidity that plasters her clothes to her skin. But the briskness of this morning isn’t entirely unwelcome, as her calves warm from her stretches.

She can see Lena jogging near the beachside cliffs. Lena occasionally joins her in the morning. Her sleep schedule was always odd, frequently flying and getting used to different time zones would do that. Lena always respects her wishes to be alone in the mornings, and never bothers her other than a quiet greeting. Lena usually doesn't use the facilities in the morning either, choosing to run around the base instead. Lena was gentle with her, always enthusiastic and frequently extending invitations to go out on the town, or offering a seat at dinner.

Satya resolves to accept the next invitation.

The once neat bun that she had made starts to fall out, wisps of thick black hair tickling her nose and neck. They stick to the thin sheen of sweat she has accumulated, and she pulls out her bun to let her thick hair tumble out.

She passes Hanzo on her way out of the gym, and they nod at each other. They both prefer the solitude of an empty gym for their early morning work out. He's a lot ike her — many of the “old Overwatch” did not trust him, either, for his history with Genji. She sees his struggles with coming to terms with life long manipulation, something that she could relate to. But he slowly makes his amends, and the rest of them warm up to him. He has an in, after all.

She grabs a protein bar from her room after changing, and nibbles on it as she heads to the workshop. She has a few final tasks to complete before they board the dropship in a few hours.

She is not prepared for what she sees when she walks in.

There is a heavy layer of dust on all surfaces, and boxes of things like nails, screws and bolts are scattered around, some overturned and spilling onto the floor. Junkrat is mumbling to himself, tinkering with something at _her_ desk _, her_ screwdriver in his hands. The once clean surface is stained with grimy prints and smears, all of her tools scattered across the desk and some had rolled on the floor, forgotten.

 _“What_ are you _doing?_ ” she hisses, the sound of her heels hitting the floor echoing throughout the room as she stalks over to him.

He jumps, startled, a screw flying from his fingers to somewhere unseen, tinkling against the floor before it settles. “Oh, sorry, sheila, I was just—”

“ _Why_ are you at my desk?”

“Didn’t know it was yours,” he says, moving to get up. But his peg leg gets caught, and he ends up crashing to the floor, denting her work stool and causing another box of screws to overturn and spill. “Heh, sorry, just couldn’t sleep last night ‘n thought I would—”

“You will keep your _mess_ ," Satya hisses, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at him, "confined to _your_ station.”

Junkrat’s golden eyes flare in intensity, and a hard snarl forms at his lips.

“Oi, what the fuck?” he says, clambering up to stand, towering over her by half a foot. “I thought y’were alright, sheila, but—”

“My name is Satya.”

“—yer bein’ a right cunt!”

Satya isn’t fully aware that she slaps him until her hand stings, and she can feel the grease as it sticks to her fingers. She sets her jaw and turns on her heel to exit the workshop without another word. She wishes the doors weren’t automatic so she could slam it.

 _You will go on this mission_ , she tells herself, walking directly to the hanger, _and when you come back you will fix all the damage he has done. Everything will be in order again._

* * *

 

Jamie is _pissed._  

“Can y’ believe that, Hog!” he says, setting down a tray piled with food. “She slapped me! Didn’t even do nothin’!”

“She said you were at her desk.”

“Well, yeah, but how was I supposed t’ know?”

Roadhog hums, his only priority eating his food. That was fine, Jamie could talk enough for both of them.

“Couldn’t sleep last night, an’ they told me no tinkerin’ in m’ room. So I went there ta work! ‘S some right shit, mate.”

The cafeteria is full of everyone laughing and chattering this time of day. Jamie frowns as he takes another bite of his sandwich, piled high with meat and some of the first fresh veggies he’s had in months. It wasn’t the best food he’s ever had, but after scavenging for something simply _edible_ and as lightly irradiated as possible for most of his life, he knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He can literally feel his malnourished body _singing_ at the idea of nutrients.

He knows the radiation is affecting him, in little ways that eventually boil over. It’s better now that he’s out of the Outback, but he wonders if he’ll ever get back bits that he lost. He’d really like his hair back, glad that it’s not falling out in clumps anymore. He still has headaches, though not as intense as the migraines he used to have back in Junkertown, aggravated by the sweltering sun and constant rumble. He wonders how sick he is on the inside.

“ _Junkrat_!”

Jamie instantly dives under the table, food forgotten and dismissed. “Wasn’t me! Wasn’t me!”

But it’s Torbjörn, the small man that Jamie towered over when they were introduced. Of course, he's now at the perfect height to glare at Jamie, who is cowering under the lunch table like a dog who pissed on the carpet. Torbjörn reaches to grab at Jamie’s ear, pinching it and pulling him forward. Jamie scrambles, his bony knees catching on the tiles.

“Ow, ow, fuck mate, watch it!”

Torbjörn finally lets go after he’s pulled them away from the prying eyes of the cafeteria and into the relatively more private connecting hallway. Jamie rubs his ear, pouting with a glare at the smaller man.

Torbjörn is at least two feet shorter than him, but under his glare, Jamie felt smaller than ever.

“Now, what were ya thinking!”

“What’re ya talkin’ about?” Junkrat mumbles, tucking his lanky arms into himself.

“Satya was right pissed off this morning, and I‘ve never seen her so angry in me life before. Then I walk into the workshop to see that you decimated her station! You fool!”

“How was I supposed ta know it was hers!” he snaps. “Just needed ta work, it was open.”

“It had all o’ her supplies laid out! Ya didn’t think twice about that?”

“Thought maybe yous suits had fancy digs here! Everythin’ stocked up!”

Torbjörn sighs, the anger clearly gone from his eyes. “No, not quite, lad.”

“Not ta mention, she blew up at me! No reason ta react like that, I didn’t know—”

“Listen, boy,” Torbjörn says with another sigh, fixing him with what Jamie assumes is a fatherly look. “Satya likes her things just so. Don’t let no one else touch ‘em. Takes care o’ things. She just…didn’t know how ta react to seein’ it all mucked up, likely.”

Jamie considers this.  Back in Junkertown, some people kept their things tightly guarded so that no one else could try to claim it was theirs, or so that they would know if someone stole it. Maybe Satya was like that.

“So,” Torbjörn continues, “finish eatin’ and then you and I will clean up her workspace and fix ya up with yer own. Understood?”

Jamie nods, almost shyly. He recognizes that he maybe crossed a line, and shouldn’t have reacted so harshly to her being upset. He doesn’t take well to being yelled at, and he would apologize taking her space. Even if she _did_ overreact.

Jamie walks back inside and take a seat, picking up his fork to start eating again.

“Did you muck it up?” Roadhog asks, and although his masks is security fastened over his face, Jamie knows there’s a smug smile on it.

“Yep,” he says. “Course I did.”

* * *

 

Satya is still seething as she sits in the drop ship. 

The whir of the air around the plane is loud, despite the newest sound dampening technology. She smooths out the silk folds in her skirt over and over again, making music out of the sounds her boots make as she taps her toes on scuffed metal.

“Satya, child, what’s troubling you?”

Her eyes flash up to the seat across from her. Ana’s eye, framed by crows feet, smiles at her knowingly from across the walkway. Ana’s gear is worn from the sun and age, well loved fiber-woven fabric settling into long-established folds. Ana peers up at her as she cleans her rifle, and quirks an eyebrow.

“I went into the workshop this morning to finalize some preparations and it had been…commandeered.”

Ana laughs. “One of the new guys, yes?”

Satya nods. “I…regret the way I handled the situation.”

“We all know you like to keep your things orderly,” Ana says, clicking a compartment back into place. “It’s no wonder you got upset.”

Satya hadn’t realized that she was noticeably particular, to the point where it was a known fact in the team. She’s not sure if that bothers her, or comforts her.

Ana seems to read her mind.

“You know that on this team, we cherish our unique strengths,” she says, with a familiarity that makes her think that Ana has given this speech before. “Your organization is cohesive for our team. It is valued. We will _all_ learn to value the Junkers’ selective brand of chaos as well.”

Satya doesn’t miss the implication.

“I understand,” she says, before letting a small smile unfurl. “But I won’t hold back if he touches my things again.”

Ana chuckles, nodding. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”

* * *

 

The first thing Torbjörn makes him do before he cleans is take a shower. 

“‘S bullshit,” Jamie mutters, waiting anxiously for the water to heat up. “ ‘Gotta be clean ta clean,’ he says…”

Realistically, Jamie knows that the water isn’t toxic, that it won’t burn. He knows that it is _just_ water and everything will be fine, but it doesn’t assuage the nervousness he feels despite all of that. At least he’s safe in his own room, not vulnerable in public.

Everything they got here was so unbelievably luxurious that he can scarce believe it. His own room! A private bathroom! A warm bed, and as much food as he can stuff in his face, too! Sometimes he wonders its all a dream, and he’ll wake up with a massive hangover next to a dumpster in Thailand again.

The water is warm over his skin, and it’s a relief that Jamie wasn’t expecting to feel so good. The water turns black as it pools in the drain, and he honestly can’t remember the last time he used soap. He’s grateful for the washcloth to scrub off the stubborn grease, and that the dirt flows cleanly off him. It’s been a long time since he’s had a proper shower, nonetheless since he’s had the time to savor it.

He steps out, toweling himself off haphazardly. He can see the freckles that pepper his cheeks and shoulders, the tan on his chest that cuts off at where his waistband hangs. The fine, dark hairs that creep up at his belly button, some of them lightened by the sun, and his hands and feet are red from the heat of the water. 

Cleaning takes a while, but Jamie begrudgingly complies. He knows when he's fucked up, and he’ll take the heat for it. He puts everything back as neatly as he can, and scribbles out a “sorry” on a note in his messy handwriting.  

He’s introduced to a space of his own, a desk with drawers and fancy lights and a thick pad of blueprint paper. It’s tucked into a little alcove in the corner, with enough containers and spaces to store extra bombs, scrap, and whatever else he deems necessary. It’s the first time he’s had a space of his own to do his tinkering, not just a piece of cold floor in the middle of a shack. Jamie doesn’t know what to do with it.

Tinkering is so much easier when he’s not hunched over, Jamie discovers. His back hurts a lot less and he gets so much more done. He doesn’t realize that hours have passed until Torbjörn slaps him on the shoulder.

“Let’s get some grub in ya,” he says.

The two of them spend their walk to the dining hall arguing about how they repurpose scrap.

“Makes no sense, mate,” Jamie says, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Ya already got a perfect bit o’ screw or some other dongle, why would ya go through the extra work of meltin' it down and formin' it?”

Torbjörn scoffs, his face turning red as he stammers. “Yer not listening! I told ya the first time—”

“Told me squat is what ya told me, ‘cept for pointless extra work!”

Torbjörn grumbles and shuffles away, pouting as he clambers up into a chair next to a large, loud man.

“Wha’s that bloke’s name again?” Jamie mumbles to himself as he stacks his food on his plate. “Ron? Rin? Somethin’ like that…”

Jamie clatter his plate excitedly across from Roadhog, grinning wide at his friend. “Oi, I haven’t seen ya all day! I missed ya!”

Roadhog wheezes a laugh. “Zoned out while you were building again, didn’t ya?”

Jamie grins. “Ya know it, mate!”

He continues his conversation, learning that Roadhog had spent most of his afternoon, practicing his hooks with another teammate — Fear-a? Far-off? — and getting some scrap piled together. Jamie noticed that the other tables were much the same, talking and chatting without much care to the rest of the world around them. They weren’t staring at them, and even though his paranoia would never go away, it wasn’t so rough now.

Maybe tonight, he could sleep for the first time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will focus on the mission, enjoy this until then!
> 
> feel free to follow me on tumblr @borzbois


	3. to permanantly see in reverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to permanently see in reverse  
> take the remorse out of defeat  
> cause everything that’s under my skin  
> where i end and begin  
> still belongs to me
> 
> now or never now / metric

Satya decides she doesn’t mind Ana so much.

Not that she ever had a problem with Ana in the first place. But in this particular moment, Satya finds herself all the more appreciative.

They had been on stake out for three days now, cooped up in a shack of a hotel room located conveniently near their target. It was hot and arid in Egypt, which Satya was thankful for. It was much better than the blistering humidity she experienced often back home, even if she was still sweating bullets. They kept the air conditioner on to a minimum to keep the interference in the bug down, and to help with their general awareness of the sounds around them. She can feel the sweat uncomfortable rolling down her scalp, trapped in the thickness of her hair. 

Of course, Ana is suffering much the same.

Ana is able to comfortably read Satya without much effort on Satya’s end at all. Ana is at ease in silence, and doesn’t feel the need to fill it uselessly. However, Satya enjoys the older woman’s anecdotes about her history here — shops that have been long since gutted and replaced, or of ancient monuments of history that still exist in tatters. Ana recounts with a laugh having a stakeout in this exact motel, many years ago.

Their task is to sniff out not only the Talon operatives who were staying somewhere in the area, but also the database center across the bazaar. They had gotten a tip that Talon was eyeing it as a potential target, especially with their new hacker in their midst. They have no idea what is being stored there — the Egyptian government was being surprisingly uncooperative, even with Ana’s service record and Fareeha’s connections to Helix Security.

Satya wishes she had been able to get them a room at the much nicer hotel across the plaza, but it would have drawn too much suspicion to them. The maid service was too intrusive, and Talon was known to operate occasionally out of high end hotels. Their cover had a high probability rate of being compromised, something they can’t afford for this op. Satya’s skin is coated in a thin but unbearable layer of dirt, grime and sweat, sticking to her like glue. She was itching for a chance to shower it all off of her.

When she does, the shower is underwhelming. The water is scalding, as if there was no cold water at all — which is entirely possible, she considers, remembering how cold water often ran out back in Hyderabad during the summer, when the sun boils the water inside the pipes. The water pressure is also abysmal, like a small trickle that is barely able to lift the stickiness of her sweat away from her skin. Satya would relish in a long, hot shower before curling up in the cool sheets when she gets back home. 

It’s Ana’s watch still, as Satya slips into the itchy sheets of the hotel bed. She knows she won’t sleep much, if at all, but resting would be beneficial regardless. She finds it hard to sleep in strange hotel rooms, nonetheless when she can’t wear earplugs to stifle the noises that will undoubtedly wake her easily. She pulls open her tablet to read the mission dossier again, one more time. 

 _Operation_ _Big_ _Bang_

 _Location_ : _Cairo_ , _Egypt_

_Length of operation: Approximately 3 days undercover for the purposes of intelligence collection, then 5-7 days as backup support for offensive operation_

_Objective: Identify potential Talon agents and identify possible hot times for tarhet location. Identify any inte that may aid in target collection and offensive response._

_Possible high profile Talon agents that may be encountered: Widowmaker (alias Amélie Lacroix), Reaper (alias unknown) and Sombra (alias unknown). Please see attached files for individualized information and what to expect._

_Target details: Not much is known about the possible Talon target except that it is a military facility that is scientific in nature. In addition to standard protocal experimentation practices regarding highly top secret substances/practices, there is a supercomputer database. This database holds a significant amount of information about these experiments, as well as other scientific research regarding weapon development and military intel as shares by the UN. We are not sure how Talon will use this or what their end game is, so we must make sure this hacker does not get in. Sombra has proven before that they are able to hack into highly compartmentalized databases with ease._

Satya sighs. She had read the reports dozens of times before they even got on the dropship, but she rereads it every time just to see if she missed something. No, she hasn’t, it is still just a woefully small amount of intel they have.

She knows that is exactly what her job is, but she is awful at collecting intelligence. She doesn’t read body language well, and she finds it hard to pick out those with “incriminating tells” than the everyday person walking down the street. She’s not entirely sure why Winston sent her with Ana in the first place.

She tells Ana this, setting aside her tablet.

“That’s true,” Ana says, “you’re not well-suited for intelligence. But you are not well known. You and I can sneak in and out without drawing suspicion or look out of place. Someone else more suited — like Jesse or Lena? Sticks out like a sore thumb here, with their accents.” Ana laughs. “Plus they’re both well-known Overwatch affiliates. Talon would have shut their entire op down when they passed through the airport and have left nothing but dust.”

“That’s a fair assessment,” Satya concedes. “I do suppose that is another aspect of reconnaissance that I had not considered.” 

“Plus,” Ana continues, “you are handy in a fight where our back is against a wall, which can happen with recons. Your turrets are handy in close quarters.”

It feels good to get acknowledgement like this from someone she respects so much. Ana is a cornerstone of Overwatch history, proud and stubborn. But not without her flaws, of which she graciously wears on her sleeve unlike the perfect saviors they had been so fond of parading around in the news. Ana was a true, complex person who understand faults and strengths, and made no effort to seem infallible. Satya respects that and admires it.

“Thank you,” she says with a smile. “I’ll be turning in now. Please do wake me up when it is my shift.”

“Will do.”

Satya’s sleep does not come easily. The heat gets to her, sweat dripping down the curve of her spine and soaking into the thin cotton sheets. It’s easier at night, when the sun has cooled down the desert, but the room is stuffy. She wakes to every small sound; every time Ana adjusts her rifle, every time the people in the room next to her talks a little too loudly, every time someone walks a little too closely to the window.

It’s two am when she blearily opens her eyes to Ana gently nudging her. Satya nods and rubs her eyes, taking the cup of tea Ana had brewed for her and settling into the spot by the window.

Satya sips at her tea as Ana crawls into bed immediately, a gentle snoring coming from her within moments. At least Ana knew how tea was supposed to be, unlike some people on the team. They had bonded over favorite teas soon after Satya had joined the team.

“Fareeha prefers coffee,” Ana had said with a frown. “Takes after her father in that way.”

Most of the night is uneventful, Satya sitting and simmering in her thoughts. But a flash of color catches her eye near the bazaar, and she looks into the scope of Ana’s rifle to get a closer look.

The woman she has never seen before, but is awfully conspicuous in bright, vibrant purple and cybernetic implants that trail through her hair and disappear under her clothes. Walking with her is definitely, absolutely Reaper.

“Ana,” she hisses, and the sniper instantly jolts awake. “It’s Reaper.”

Ana immediately shuffles over, pushing Satya out of the way to look through the scope herself. She curses in Arabic before turning on her comm.

“We’ve located the targets, I repeat, we have located the targets.” Satya hears someone else on the other comm line before it goes to static, Ana’s brow furrowing. “Hello? Team Alpha? Report.”

“Hola, amigas.”

Satya spins around on a heel, cursing herself for leaving her photon projector on the nightstand.

 _Stupid_.

In front of them, leaning casually on the hotel bed is the woman she just saw with Reaper. Her cybernetics glow dimly in the darkness, illuminating her all the better. Satya commits her face to memory. She examines long nails on one hand, an automatic pistol in the other, pointed lazily at them.

Satya’s skin crawls at the idea of a gun pointed at her. Her photon projector was always set to stun — but bullets? Bullets were a finality she had never had the pleasure of facing down before. 

She realizes with a start that her turrets haven’t activated yet, but they were designed to incapacitate anyone that wasn’t wearing an Overwatch comm system.

“Impressive little pets you have there,” the woman says, pointing with her eyes to the turrets stationed at the entry points behind Satya with a grin. “But not impressive enough to keep me out.”

“Ah, you must be Sombra,” Ana says. “The Talon hacker.”

“Ah ah ah,” Sombra says, wagging her finger. “I’m a hacker who happens to be getting paid by Talon. My allegiance belongs to no one but myself.”

“Oh, well thank you _so_ much for the clarification.” The bite in Ana’s voice is missed by no one.

Satya can see that Ana is inching closer and closer for the poison grenade in her pack, without drawing attention to herself. Its hard, when Sombra’s eyes are trained on her in a smug glare, pistol pointed directly at her head.

“How can you hack my turrets?” she asks, despite knowing the answer. “They’re all individualized with separate operating codes and servers.”

Sombra laughs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, pobrecito, all you builders think you’re so special, when you’re all the same.” Sombra narrows her sharp eyes, a smirk unfurling on her face. “Besides, you think I don’t recognize Vishkar tech when I see it?”

Satya stiffens. Yes, her tech was technically all Vishkar in nature, despite her best efforts to separate the styles and execution. But hard light was hard light, and she had been trained by Vishkar for many long years. Old habits die hard. She cannot deny that her arm was stolen Vishkar tech, that they would have shut off long ago if she hadn’t disabled the kill switch herself.

“They’d be real happy with me for getting it back to them, don’t you think?”

A cold shiver runs through Satya’s body at the thought of being without her hard light, stomach jumping up into her throat.

It is now that Ana lobs the poison grenade at Sombra, who shrieks and shoots rounds blindly into the room, before coughing and huffing. There’s an audible click even in the chaos, and through the smoke there is a flickering light that glows as purple as her cybernetics.

When the smoke clears, she is gone.

Satya sees her turrets light up and activate again, and the comm system turns on abruptly with a start.

“Pack our things,” Ana says, before turning on her comm. “This is Team Omega, emergency extraction requested. We have been compromised. I repeat, emergency extraction requested.” 

By the time Satya has finished packing up their things out of the motel and clearing the room of any trace of them, Ana already has coordinates as for where they’re going to meet the dropship. They scurry across the bricks of the market, glad to be out of sight in the darkness. It isn’t until they’re headed home in the dropship that Satya realizes they’re both in her pajamas.

“I’ve never failed anything before,” she says with a frown in the quiet silence.

“It’s not a failure,” Ana replied immediately, her eye closed. “Just a setback for this particular operation. And now we have information to add to the Sombra file. A visual, another known connection Vishkar, and a description of capabilities.”

Satya supposes that’s true, even if she’s bitter about it. Ana had said that she was useful backed up in corner — and her turrets had been compromised.

She was recognized, too. Perhaps not on sight, but it wouldn’t be long before Vishkar would put the pieces together. There was only one person in the world with a stolen prosthetic capable of hard light, and it was her.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Satya sighs. “My turrets were compromised, and it is only a matter of time before Vishkar identifies me as an Overwatch affiliate based on Sombra’s description.”

Ana hums, but says nothing.

“I feel as though I failed, still. All the reasons you listed before, about why I was vital… None of those matter now.” 

“True,” Ana says, and Satya’s heart drops. “They don’t matter now — because now we understand more about who we’re dealing with. We can still fit you accordingly. It’s not your fault we had no clue who we were dealing with.”

Satya hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything further. Ana clearly wants to sleep, and she has nothing more of value to say anyway. It’s all self-loathing, self-critique that she can’t stop from running through her head. It’s of no use to continue this conversation with the way her head is now. Her mind swirls with this insanity the entire ride home  

She was raised to be ashamed of any fault, to despise failure. She remembers the punishments for failures, strict and unwavering. Some nights it was no free time or a verbal lashing in front of all her classmates. As she got older, it meant no dinner, her stomach clenching uncomfortably as she sat in her dorm in the dark. After she became a full-time employee, failure was punished in the form of less projects, of pay cuts and stern letters of disappointments in her personal file.

Satya had once looked down at those who consistently failed — she couldn’t understand why they allowed themselves to do so. After all, how could she, when it was so easy to succeed? She had taken to hard light like a fish to water, excelling far above any of the other classmates her age. She had been one of the top ranking architect’s by the age of 25, unheard of before her. She allowed herself to become haughty, fueled by Sanjay’s praise and subconscious reminders of what failure entailed for her.

Finding out that Vishkar was in league with Talon broke her spirit. She was sure that they were files she wasn’t supposed to have seen, but she had. She read the words Sanjay had said about her with her own eyes — “a useful tool” “easy to bend” and “blissfully ignorant.” Among other things.

She took her paid time off for the first time since joining as an employee.

And never went back.

By the time they reach base,  the sun is rising behind the cliffs. She should be doing her morning yoga routine. It’s chilly as she shuffles from the hangar into the warm heat of the halls, still barefoot and in her cotton pajamas. They’re shuffled into a debriefing, the entire team there, blearily clutching cups of coffee. Half of them are also in their pajamas, which makes her feel a little less embarrassed about her state of dress.

But only a little.

The exhaustion is evident on her and Ana’s faces as they brief the details of the mission. They aren’t able to give a visual, because Sombra had also hacked all of the security cameras. Satya recounts with a scowl that Sombra was able to hack their comms, turrets, and had, at the very least, short range teleportation device.

“Reaper was also sighted,” she says, and watches the room visibly tense. “However, he did not engage.”

The briefing is as quick as possible, the entire room tense, frustrated and tired. Satya is getting an exhaustion migraine herself, and was looking forward to a warm breakfast, a hot shower and a late nap. She rubs her temples to try to alleviate the building pain as she trudges to the cafeteria.

She settles with a bowl of oatmeal, mild enough for her migraine. She looks up in surprise as two tray clatter across from her, seeing Roadhog and Junkrat. 

She remembers with a start how she had left things with him, and how angry she had been. In all the chaos, she had completely forgotten about that chore she would need to complete before she did any work. Great.

“Hey,” Junkrat says, sheepishly smiling at her, cutting into his sausages. “Sorry ‘bout the other night. Shouldn’ta said what I did.”

Satya blinks. “I may not have handled myself best in retrospect, either. I apologize for my behavior.”

“Torb told me ya like yer things ‘just so.’ Sorry I mucked it up.”

Upon closer inspection, she notices that Junkrat has bathed. His skin is clean, the layers of grime removed from his face and hair. His hands are a streaked with grease, but that’s excusable. She can see freckles that dot his cheeks, his hair a soft blonde, like wheat.

“It’s quite alright,” she replies. “Just please keep to your own station from now on.”

“Oh, I will!” he says with a big grin, showing off a tooth that glints gold in the flourescents. “Torb set me up with m’own fancy specs ‘n everythin’, and helped me fix yer’s up to tip top.”

This surprises her. Her relationship with Torbjörn was not hostile, but merely cordial. Her typical relationship with coworkers — and the other architect’s at Vishkar would never have lifted a finger to help her, nonetheless return her work station to it’s orderly state.

“Well, thank you, Junkrat,” she says after a pause, giving him a tired smile. “That was very kind of you both.”

“‘S Jamie to my friends.”

She hides a smile behind her hand.

“Then please, call me Satya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for all the love and support so far! i love reading your comments!


	4. the effort’s good enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i’m a cynic  
> my harshest critic  
> but i’d like to believe  
> i could open my heart and let someone in it 
> 
> consistent // no/me

Whatever Talon had been after in Egypt, they got it.

Satya reads the news report on her tablet while sipping her tea. The Egyptian government was reporting stolen data and experimental substances, with no plausible leads. "Whoever" had done it had left no fingerprints, no DNA, and had hacked the security cameras. Every security guard was quoted saying they were incapacitated from behind, choked, but left alive. No visuals, no nothing.

Satya furrows her brow and sighs. She's curled up in one of the common room's plush chairs, a worn quilt pulled around her shoulders. It was on the chair when she came in, but she thinks it's Reinhardt's. It’s late, nearly two in the morning. The sky was still dark, illuminated only by a brief sliver of moonlight that slips in through the windows.

She's usually an early-riser, but she had a particularly fitful night's sleep. Nightmares consumed her tonight, like they did every so often. After waking up after three nightmares in a row (Sombra above her—

      —villainous grin,  
             Tears forming at the corners  
                   Helpless,  
                        U s e l e s s  
             No, wait, stop,  
                                      Ple—) 

She decided to just stay up. She usually ends up more exhausted if she keeps trying to go back to sleep, anyway.There's not much to do this time of night and she feels too drained to do her morning workout today. Looking at the news doesn't help, she realizes.

She folds the quilt neatly over the back of the easy chair, and heads down the hall. She's still in her pajamas, and her slippers scuff the hallway as she makes her way down to the workshop. She might as well put on some music and work, if for no other reason than to focus her mind.

The quiet echoes in the hallways make her jittery. She knows it's just her own sounds coming back at her, or the sounds of her coworkers existing in their own rooms, but she still seems to be in nightmare mode. The darkness feels darker, and the shadows don’t stop moving out of the corner of her eyes. She wishes she hadn't stayed in her pajamas, and had put on real clothing. Somehow, that would have made her feel more protected, less vulnerable.

The workshop is cold, much like the rest of the base. Usually, it was for the best that there was no heat in here. Torbjörn's forge usually heats up the room to a sweltering temperature, but it is cooled for now. The metal surface of her workstation is like ice, and Satya can see her breath in the late night chill.

She wishes she had brought the quilt.

She breathes in and out, and turns on her music on her tablet. It's calm, low and usually can relax her. The singer's voice is low and the balance in production blends it into the bass, so it's not too difficult for her to focus on the work at hand.

Satya can't design like she used to, not realistically. There’s no way for her to design real buildings and bring them to life, not anymore, but it still helps calm her mind. She begins to design a new base for them — perhaps somewhere warmer. There could be solar panels on the roof that could easily generate most, if not all of their electricity; it would do well somewhere closer to the equator with long sunlight hours. Perhaps a greenhouse as well, since many of her teammates enjoy gardening. Of course, a large entertainment center, with wall-to-wall holoscreens and —

She feels something at her shoulder, a whisper of a breeze, and she whisks herself around with a shriek, her supplies clattering to the floor.

It's just Jamie, staring at her wide-eyed, his once out-stretched arm pulled reflexively to his chest. She closes her eyes, her heart pounding like a drum inside of her chest. She takes a minute to breathe, trying to soothe the jitters out of her.

"It's late," she says simply.

"…Yeah?"

Satya huffs, furrowing her brows and not moving her eyes from their firm gaze on the floor.

“Most people aren’t up at this hour,” she elaborates, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else in the workshop.”

“Oh,” he says, his foot scuffling the floor. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean t’scare ya.”

“It’s quite alright,” she says at his expression. Jamie looks sheepish, and she can tell he means it. “What are you doing up?”

He has dark circles under his eyes, the purple smears out of place on his otherwise warm tones. His hair is out of place, sticking up every which way — well, more than usual, that is.

He sighs, throwing himself in his chair which rolls slightly to bump into his desk. His peg leg makes a high pitched whine at it slides across the floor, and they both wince at the sudden sound.

“Don’t sleep well,” he says, fiddling with an unfinished mine that was on his desk. “Dunno whether it’s cause of when I was in Oz, or cause a’ my thinker.” He taps his temple, as if to elaborate. “Got too much on my mind, all the time. ‘S hard to sleep, and I wake up t’ the littlest things. Don’t help that I’m gettin’ used to bein’ here.”

She doesn’t ask him to elaborate. For a long time back at the Academy, she tried to explain to other kids that her brain simply worked differently from theirs. Their response was always, “So then what’s wrong with you?”

“The first couple weeks are difficult,” she murmurs, taking a seat herself. She crosses her legs, the thin cotton of her pajamas stretching tightly over the curves of her thighs. “After you begin to decorate your room, make it your own, and get used to the sounds of your neighbors, it makes it easier. It becomes more familiar.”

She was the same way when she first came to Gibraltar. She was still rolling with anxiety from abandoning Vishkar, her brain on a non-stop train of thinking about every way this could go wrong. Wondering what they would do to her when they finally caught her. She thought about all the ways she could atone for the sins she unknowingly committed in the name of Vishkar. She was distracted by the noises of her new neighbors, sounds she was unaccustomed to already, which made her first few weeks sleepless and irritable.

She digs into her desk drawers, producing a plastic bag and places it Jamie’s hand.

“Earplugs,” she clarified at his confused inspection. “They help with the noises.”

He hums in approval, nodding before giving her a bright smile.

“Thanks, Sheila! These sure will help!”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What?”

“Sheila,” she says, her brow furrowing in irritation. “My name is Satya.”

He lets out a roaring laugh, rearing his head back and slapping his flesh knee. She can’t help but analyze him as he laughs, the sound out of sync, the change in pitch making it almost sound maniacal. She’s noticed already that he tends to twitch a lot, little things with his hands when she can tell they itch to do something, or the way his flesh leg bounces up and down when he’s trying desperately to stay in his seat.

In his laughter, his fingers wiggle much like they do when he’s itching for movement, but it’s more fluid, more satisfied. Happy. He taps his feet on the floor to get the excess energy out, and she smiles at the scene.

“‘S slang,” he says, once he’s finally recovered, wiping imaginary tears from the corner of his eyes. “Y’don’t call women sheila here?”

“I don’t believe so,” she replies, picking at a bit of lint off of her pajama bottoms. “Besides, I wouldn’t know. English is not my first language. I’m not skilled in slang.”

“Oh,” he says, drawing out the vowel, leaning forward on his knees. “Sorry. I’ll try ta be better.”

“Nonsense,” she says, smiling at him. “Just bear with me and my questions.”

He gives her another grin, his gold tooth glinting in the bright flourescents. “Right-o!”

* * *

 

Satya is _tired_. 

She’s used to being exhausted fairly often; all-nighters were a common occurance while she was a student and even after becoming a fully-fledged architect. She had often been chosen to complete rush orders or brought on to teams with fast-approaching deadlines and not much to show for it due to her ability to get outstanding results quickly. She usually wears her exhaustion with a little more grace, but today she is not having it.

Her and Jamie had ended up talking all night, discussing designs and other things related to their shared craft. He is really quite intelligent, despite her initial opinion of him, and she feels guilty for judging him so harshly. He is incredibly creative, able to make do with just about any piece of scrap lying around, able to repurpose and work on the fly. Satya doesn’t think she is capable of the same, without her carefully designed blueprints and her hard light that gives her whatever component she needs.

Usually, she would end up having a quick nap before coming out to the common room and socializing. But they had lost track of time talking, and it was breakfast before she knew it.

Jamie had decided to stay in the workshop, intently focused on a design he had been telling her about. She promised to bring him back a snack.

“Miss Vaswani,” a warm voice says, before a gentle hand touches her back. She stiffens at first with the unprompted touch, but relaxes when she sees that it is just Angela. “Are you well today? You look out of sorts.”

She knows that Angela is the doctor on board and it is her job to look out for the well-being of everyone on base, but she can’t help but feel warmth bloom in her chest at the gesture. She is not used to this — at Vishkar, being ill is a weakness. She had worked many jobs through intense fevers, vomiting and other unsightly symptoms.

“I had trouble sleeping last night,” she says, giving Angela as much of a  smile as she can muster. “Nightmares.”

Angela frowns. “Would you like me to write you a prescription? Many people find it helps.”

“No, thank you,” she says quickly, trying her best not to grimace. “It only happens every once in a while. Not nearly enough to warrant medication.”

Satya’s tried medication before for the nightmares. Vishkar demanded the best from their employees, and once she had told her physician of her issue, he had prescribed her a sleeping pill. It left her feeling even worse than if she had the nightmares — odd, jittery, and paranoid. She had gone into a panic attack almost every day when she took it.

She doesn’t want to try it again. Not here.

“If you say so,” Angela replies, giving her a stern look. “Take a nap today if you need to, please? The workshop is a dangerous place to fall asleep.”

“I believe I’ll be taking it easy today, Angela,” Satya says, taking a sip of her warm tea. “The base is quieter with everyone out on the big mission. Easier for me to interact in the busier areas.”

Angela nods with a smile, and leaves her be.

Satya wants to interact more with her teammates. She wants to build those friendships she sees unfolding around her, and be a part of something that was always discouraged at Vishkar. But it is hard, when coming to participate in the video game tournaments meant squishing onto a couch with five other people screaming into her ear. Or when using the gym with everyone else meant getting too distracted by their noises, or movements, or music to actually calm herself.

 _I just need to learn how to cope with my new environment_ , she tells herself. _That’s all._

She has never done well with change. The beauty of Vishkar was that all her life was structured the same way. It was a smooth transition from the Academy to her employment, with the same people and the same expectations. To be thrust so suddenly into a  completely foreign working environment, with new people, a new language…

Well, it’s understandable that she is having trouble adjusting.

She knows that, logically, the team doesn’t despise her for her differences. That was part of Overwatch’s charm, after all. But she can’t help but flash back to her beginnings in the slums, when the other children would tease her for her peculiarity. The anxiety eats away at her when she worries too hard about what people think, especially considering how difficult it is for her to read them.

Jamie is easier, she thinks. Despite that he’s loud and she struggles to understand his accent, two things that usually causes her to withdraw, it’s easier with him. Perhaps it’s because she knows that under it all, they’re similar. Perhaps it was his unwavering confidence in the face of unfamiliarity.

She’s not sure, but she smiles anyway when she enters the workshop and sees him hard at work. She ently sets his plate of breakfast next to him on his desk, and he mumbles something under his breath that she assumes is a token of gratitude. She sits at her desk next to him, and fiddles with her blueprint that she had been working on before.

For once, the sounds of someone else working in the room don’t quite bother her.


	5. interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now i get a holiday  
> wherever i go, i might stay 
> 
> interlude: holiday by paramore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a filler chapter, a little build of world building for some heavy hitters coming up. enjoy the pining [eye emoji]

****Satya sits, trying to focus on the music in her headphones, and not the overwhelming roar of sounds around her. Of course, that's all the she can focus on. The irregular hum of the plane engine, Jamie fiddling with a toy as he taps his foot, or the distant but permeating clang of machinery. She tries to practice her breathing, but every misplaced sound sends a shudder through her, as if it's a needle poking through her nerves.

As they begin to drop altitude, Satya allows herself to look out the window, over the landscape of Cannes, France. Officially, they were on bodyguard duty for a movie star who wanted a "wild card" for his security team, but unofficially, it was Talon scouting. It was no secret that Maximillien was a Talon supporter, and he had already blasted on social media about his appearance on the red carpet.

Hana and Lucio were joining them as well, though under their own capacities and not as Overwatch agents. With the press they needed to give and other obligations to their PR agencies, they weren't expected to scout out for Talon signs. They also got to fly in Hana's private jet, which was cushioned and, most importantly, _quiet_.

She feels a gentle tap on her knee, which is Jamie gently letting her know it's time to go. She doesn't remember when she let her eyes shut but they're bleary as she stands. She wobbles a bit down the grated walkway of the Orca, still unused to it even after several flights. She's never been a fan of airborne travel, either — she prefers the solitude of her own car, but she understands there are certain luxuries she cannot afford anymore. She watches Jamie struggles with the grates as well, his peg leg constantly sliding against the metal and shifting into the cracks.

He grumbles until he clears the off ramp, mumbling to himself all the way. The two of them shiver for a moment as the coastal breeze hits them in a swift gust, shrugging a little deeper into the light coats they had brought along on the overly air-conditioned plane.

"Wow, it's a scorcher today!" Lena remarks as she hops off the ramps, stretching her neck out. "I can't wait to get outta my flight suit. 'S been a real hot summer this year!"

Jamie and Satya share a look, remembering the blazing heat of their own island summers.

They decide to let Lena have this one.

* * *

 

The drive to their hotel is remarkably beautiful, dotted by exquisite coastal villas that make her brain turn with ideas about arches and crowning. Her mind buzzes the entire drive, fingers itching in mock pulls and flourishes, thinking about what buildings she would make in their (extensive) downtime for this mission. The tight streets are framed with old shops — architecturally inferior but impressive nonetheless, she concedes — modern appliances and bright lights weaving their way into the picturesque scene like geodes sparkling in the sunlight. 

Lena and Jamie chatter away the entire ride, and don't mind much that she isn't talkative. She has her headphones on, still, but she can hear them just slightly. The words are blurry, like they are just out of her reach of consciousness, but she's aware they're talking.

The hotel they pull up to is remarkable as well. It's not teeming with the rich and famous, but is still very clearly high class. The lobby itself has high ceilings that stretch several floors, crystal chandeliers twinkling bright as they dangle above the hotel patrons.

Lena checks them in, and Satya is reminded vividly of her company travels, black credit card glinting in the lobby light. She distracts herself from those memories, looking over to Jamie.

He looks a bit funny, she thinks, donned up in sweatpants and a tank top, duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

 _Like a cricket player on holiday_ , she thinks with a barely-suppressed grin.

"How did you like the flight?" she asks quietly, playing with the button on her luggage.

"'S boring," he answers, his nose crinkling as he frowns. "Nuthin' t'do. Too much time t'do nuthin'."

Satya hums. "Agreed."

Lena finally hands them their room key, a double bed situated across the hotel from herself and heads off to her room to sleep before she heads back to Gibraltar in the morning. The walk up to their room is comfortably silent, the two of them used to long hours in the workshop together. Their room sits in a corner of the hall, tall white doors framed by gentle beige paint.

"Uh, Sat? We got a problem."

Satya blinks, staring at the room before her. It's a gorgeously lavish room, surprising considering the Overwatch budget, with gorgeous crown molding and a beach color scheme that didn't make her want to claw her eyes out. There's a wide set of chested drawers and an elegant desk tucked into the corner, leading off to a bathroom set with a Roman style tub and a waterfall shower. There is a queen bed in the center of the southern wall, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows covered with a set of royal blue curtains.

"There's only one bed," she states simply.

"Yep."

Satya considers this. It wouldn't be the first time she's shared a bed with someone platonically, though it would be the first time with someone as unpredictable as Jamie. Was he a sprawler? A cuddler? Could he keep his hands to himself and his body to his side? Was he—

"I can sleep on th'floor, no biggie," Jamie says, plopping his duffel bag on the dresser, before sitting on the edge of the bed. "D'ya mind if I hang out though to take my leg off? Hard to get up from the floor with just th'one."

"Of course, Jamie," Satya says, trying to feign indifference.

"Cheers," he says, grunting as he pops off the mechanism that kept his prosthetic attached with a shrill squeak that makes them both wince. "Th' pressure changes make me swell right up."

Satya can relate to that, though she can't find the relief that Jamie can. Her swelling isn't as severe, of course, given the surgical connection of her prosthetic, but her shoulder feels tight and uncomfortable, much like it does during storms. She watches him try to rub the tension out and without thinking, forms a ball with the consistency of rubber and hands it to him.

"It's to stimulate blood flow," she says simply at his confused look. "It helps with the pain, I find."

Her chest twinges with a something she cannot name at his humble smile, and he gets to work rolling it across the stump of his thigh. He makes satisfied noises and heavy huffs, knitting his brows together.

"'M surprised y'got issues with yers," he says. "Woulda figured Vishkar'd have it all figured out."

Satya hums as she hangs her formal wear in the closet, the overstimulation from the plane ride finally calming down. "The pain and swelling is significantly reduced, but there is still discomfort. There's only so many ways we can augment the human body."

"'S fair."

Satya feels much more together as she finishes setting her things away, since they would be here for quite a while. She allows herself to leave her undergarments in her suitcase, but sets her tablet on the nightstand next to her and places an augmented blueprint holo on the desk – ostensibly for both of them to use to get out creative energy.

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Where is your suit?"

Jamie shrugs, jutting his chin to the duffel bag on the drawers. "'S in there somewhere."

Satya's hands itch and she thinks of all the wrinkles that the very _expensive_ suit must have acquired already. "Do you mind if I hang it up for you? If we don't get the wrinkles out now it will be nigh impossible to do so later."

Jamie nods dumbly, hands playing with the hardlight ball. Satya sighs when she opens his bag – nothing folded, all of his thrown in haphazardly as if he was woken up in the middle of the night. She suppresses a groan, and purses her lips.

 _Even his tie is wrinkled_ , she thinks to herself, trying to smooth out the wrinkles of the satin, emblazoned with a subtle pattern of dark navy that catches in the light.

"We'll have to get you a garment bag for when we fly the suit back," Satya says, frowning as she tries to straighten out the lapel on the suit jacket. She's never seen Jamie in anything more formal than a T-shirt and shorts, she almost can't imagine him in a full suit. Does he even know how to put on a suit? Her mouth curls upwards at the idea of Jamie struggling to fit his long arms in a suit and clumsy fingers trying to put on a tie. "You really should've at least tried to fold it up."

"Oh," he mumbles, shoulders hunching over as he pops off his prosthetic arm, too. "Sorry. Didn't know."

Satya stops for a moment, realizing she had made an error. Often she forgets to account for others' backgrounds – in what world would Jamie have ever needed to know how to take care of clothing?

"I apologize," she says softly, eyes focused on a wrinkle. She wants to believe it's not so that she doesn't have to look him in the eyes. "I did not mean to come across that way."

"'S fine," he mumbles, and she turns to see him struggling with to massage his arm.

Satya purses her lips, tapping her fingers nervously to her thumbs at her side. "Would you...like some assistance?"

Jamie turns his head to look at her, then glances back at his own arm, and nods. He seems sheepish, she notices, as she gingerly sits on the bed next to him and takes his arm in her hands. She can feel where the deep muscle ends and the soft, pliant fat and skin that sits just under the bone. The scarring of his amputation is erratic, thick and gnarled like the roots of a tree. Satya thinks of her own scars, of the thin pale scar outlined by the curve of her shoulder, and how drastically different they are.

His skin is hot under her hands, blood flowing quickly under his tight skin as she rubs. She's never been this close before, never been able to see the freckles that dot his face and his shoulders, their patterns just as erratic as him. She smiles as he hums happily under her ministrations, the pink fading from his arm.

"Your hands're soft," he murmurs.

"Thank you," she replies, not sure what else to say. Her thumb moves in gentle swipes across the ridges of his calluses from his prosthetic, tracing the rough ridges.  It reminds her of the cracks in the buildings in the favelas, smooth paint with a geode of crumbling foundation and rough cement inside. She realizes with a start that she has been touching far too long, and gingerly allows her fingertips to trace his skin as her hands leave him.

The silence afterwards is palpable, saying words that maybe she can’t hear. But she doesn’t allow herself too think too hard on it. She rises from the bed gracefully, shrugging out of her blazer and gingerly placing it on a hanger as well.

“Do you mind if I take a shower first?” she asks, pulling her toiletries out of her valise, already neatly organized and labelled.

“Not at all,” Jamie says, waving her off.

* * *

 

The second she steps into the bathroom, Jamie breathes a sigh of relief.

He hasn’t been touched my anyone in a long time — well, one that wasn’t Hog giving him a heavy punch to the shoulder for saying something stupid. To be so gingerly and gentle touched, given relief in the form of physical contact with another person? It was terrifying and invigorating, like he was holding a breath his whole life and he was finally able to let out the smallest wisp of air.

The rather uncharacteristic display of kindness from Satya of all people sends him into an even deeper shock.

He doesn’t have a problem with her — the opposite in fact, he liked her more than a lotta other of his new co-workers. Besides the new hiccup, they had spent the last few months working together quite well. She was bloody brilliant, and watching her creates buildings with spiring towers from nothing was one of the few things that could hold his attention for hours.

It’s the fact that she’s fucking _gorgeous_.

Has he wanked to the thought of her thighs around him from time to time? Of course, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s never gotten a hint of anything other than tentative friendship from her, and in this area of his life he tends not to gamble on high stakes.

But still…

He huffs and flops onto the bed, closing his eyes as he tries to will the blush away from his cheeks.

_God, she prob’ly thinks I’m a wacko, my face all flushed like it’s the middle of December in Oz._

It’s not that he doesn’t like her, it’s that all he could focus on was her soft hands on _him_ , her gentle touches like an angels’ kiss on his sore body. He couldn’t help but flit his eyes down to her full lips, the warmth from her body, thigh to thigh —

_Fuck._

He really needs to get laid.

* * *

 

Satya’s shower is warm and refreshing, perfect to heat her up from the coastal chill that permeates throughout the hotel room. The waterfall shower was delightfully encompassing, almost as good as her luxury setup in her apartment in Oasis. She sighs in contentment, almost reluctantly turning off the spray and wrapping herself up in a towel. She hums to herself as she completes her nightly skincare routine, relishing in the familiar comfort even this far away from home. Her pajamas are soft against her skin, and she cannot wait to cuddle up under the blankets and scroll through her tablet before bed. 

She exits the bathroom with a smile, ready to put away her clothes sticky with sweat from the plane ride, before she sees Jamie, sprawled out on the foot of the mattress completely conked out. She has to stifle a giggle, actually, at the sight of it. His mouth is wide open, a light snore coming from him, the toes from his good leg brushing the carpet.  In a fit of mischief, she snaps a picture and sends it to Roadhog.

**All tuckered out.**

She considers for a moment how to wake him up and get him gently on the floor to sleep, but he just looks far too peaceful. She knows that he struggles to sleep, too, constantly up in the middle of the night, tinkering in the lab, falling asleep at his desk sometimes. She's constantly surprised his dark circles aren't more prominent, with the way he runs on caffeine and the power of will alone most days.

She decides to gently slip under the covers, curling on her side and making sure that her legs didn't disturb Jamie's resting form. She gently shuts off the lights, almost waiting for him to jerk himself awake. But he doesn't — he continues to gently snore in the dim blue light of her phone, and she smiles. The room is still a tad chilly for her liking, but the blankets are warm, and despite her plan to read a bit before bed she finds herself dozing off.

She’s impossibly warm when she wakes up, curled up with the sun gently streaming through the window where the curtain’s don’t quite cover the window. The bed is soft and plush, much better quality than her mattress at the Watchpoint — really, it’s no wonder she fell asleep the way she did. She tries to roll out of bed to freshen up, but she finds herself stuck.

“Jamie,” she says, gently. “Jamie, wake up.”

He’s curled himself around her leg, somehow getting his good arm underneath the covers to clutch her calf to his chest and — oh goodness, he was _drooling_ onto the duvet. The more she tries to pull her leg away, ever so gently, the tighter his grip becomes. He mumbles something intelligible as he shifts, practically rubbing his face on her leg like a kitten.

He looks positively adorable, if she’s being honest with herself. His lips are open with soft, deep breaths as his chest rises and falls. His long lashes brush his cheeks as his eyelids flutter with the stirrings of consciousness, his muscles twitching involuntarily. She almost feels bad for waking him up.

“Jamie,” she says, louder this time, a soft hand on his shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Dun wanna,” comes the mumbled reply, his brows furrowing.

“You can go back to sleep,” Satya says with a barely contained smile, “but would you kindly release my leg?”

Jamie opens his eyes blearily, glaring at her offending form. It only takes a brief moment before he realizes he’s stuck under something,  realizing embarrassingly quick that it’s her leg.

“Shit, m’sorry,” he says, almost falling off the bed with how quickly he rears back. “Didn’t mean t’fall asleep on the bed either—“

“It’s fine,” Satya reassures with a gentle hand to his shoulder, climbing off of the monstrously plush bed. “I just needed to freshen up.”

Satya would dare to say his blush as she turned away was cute.


	6. i'm never goin' back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i was a scapegoat for you  
> to escape from the truth  
> that i don't need all your problems  
> i am not the one to solve them
> 
> head in the clouds // lean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have never actually been to cannes nor do i know anything about it really, bear with me

Jamie doesn't clean up too bad, she thinks.

She wasn't sure how well the tux would fit him, knowing first-hand how awkward it can be to fit formal wear over prosthetics, especially considering his preference for functionality over aesthetics. They were able to give him some pants that slimmed down on the calves, while giving him enough room in the upper leg so that the knee joint wasn't at risk of tearing the suit. The speckled scallops of aqua in his tie bring out his eyes nicely, twinkling in the flashing lights. His hair is gently slicked back with a light touch of pomade, to cover his bald spots, and with a fresh wash to bring out his freckles?

Well, he was an attractive man all on his own. That much she would say.

It makes the cover all that much easier. For some reason, their client, Ito Hazori, didn't want outright body guards, despite how many of the other famous attendees had them. He called it "gauche" and "arrogant" — an eccentric for sure.

So Jamie and Satya attend as foreign dignitaries, skillfully avoiding full frontal paparazzi pictures, pretending to slot into each other's arms in the corner of Hazori's pictures. They feign kisses to the cheeks and intimate touches, tucking her head under his chin in an embrace. All the while with Jamie making snide remarks in her ear about other guests, Satya trying desperately to cover up her laughter at others' expense.

Satya's glad that the blaring paparazzi walk doesn't last for long, the flashing lights and incessant shutter of cameras is just a bit much for her. Her head throbs sharply as her and Jamie step inside, arm in arm.

There is a large hall with waitstaff floating around with flutes of champagne and plates of hors d'oeuvres, chatter to a dull lull around them as the rich and famous mingle. There are several signs pointing to darkened rooms filled with seats for the screenings that are to take place later in the night. They take their place with plates of finger food as they stay in eyesight of Hazori.

"Whatta ya think a' this place?" Jamie asks as he chews on a tart, eyebrows knitting together as he seems to slowly process the taste.

"Well, I'm a fan of the vaulted ceiling, despite it being a 20th century design, though I believe it would feel roomier with some large windows to open up the space. Though they could really work on accents, the dark floor and the bright walls really don't help the openness aspect either. They would benefit from some medium-grain accents on the staircases, the crown moulding and—" Satya pauses, taking a look at his barely contained smile. "You weren't asking about my evaluation of the architecture, were you?"

"Not exactly," he replies, taking a sip of his champagne — to which he briefly makes a sour face at — and sets it down. "But that's okay. Keep goin' if ya'd like."

This was one of the things she likes about their relationship — they have similar interests and enjoy discussing builds and blueprints. He lets her talk for hours about architecture and how certain kinds of paneling are more aesthetically sensible than others, or the ways that ceilings can influence the mood of a room. She listens to him talk about over a dozen ways he can repurpose a clock radio and turn it into weapon components.

She loves the excited glint in his eyes when he talks about something he enjoys, something he knows about. Many of the team consider him illiterate and stupid, since he never had a formal education and knows about the world purely through his own experience. His knowledge of the world is simply different than theirs, is all – he was much more worried about surviving radiation poisoning than passing a class. He knows how to break down anything to their bare components and repurpose them, build something new entirely.

It is a skill she does not have, and therefore she values his expertise and his knowledge.

Satya lowers her eyes to her drink, allowing her hair to waterfall down her shoulder, shielding her face from view. "Maximilien has entered, with guests."

Widowmaker walks in, long legs displayed as the slit in her slinky floor-length dress falls open, silky hair falling in gentle waves past her shoulders. Gems glitter at her collarbone, at her fingers and even at the straps of her heels. She is the definition of decadence and opulence, fitting into the crowd of movie stars and billionaires without batting an eyelash. She hangs delicately on the arm of Akande Ogundimu, whose wide body towers over her petite form. Her golden eyes survey the room with disinterest, though her venomous contempt still hides behind them.

"Widowmaker and Doomfist spotted," Satya murmurs into her comm, sipping her champagne as casually as she can. She lets the taste sit in her mouth, trying not to frown at the overly sweet taste.

_You would think they would have money for good champagne..._

They release a breath they didn't realize they were holding as the Talon outfit passes them, Maximillien mingling with fellow billionaires and movie stars. Satya feels grateful she has never been too interested in the lives of celebrities, and that Jamie would probably spit on them without a second thought. She thinks of Reinhardt, who would probably be starstuck, and hides a smile.

They stroll casually across the ballroom to follow Hazori from a distance as he does his own elbow rubbing and networking. Satya finds that Jamie is surprisingly a great actor, far better nuanced than her despite her many years of experience in the art of corporate politeness and brown-nosing. He moves with an ease about him as they share familiar touches, as if they are a couple of many years rather than friends of a few months. She finds herself much more hesitant about this aspect of her role – unsure how to initiate it, unsure of what is too familiar or just right, unsure of what words to say and how to relax into his touch.

"You're doin' just fine, Sat," Jamie murmurs into her ear. "'S just me."

The night is half over, swathes of people beginning to migrate to the viewing theatres, large rooms equipped with plush chairs that require her to sit up straight. They sit in the back, curled into one another in the perfect picture of intimacy to anyone else. But Jamie's eyes are on Hazori a couple rows in front of them, while Satya's are locked onto Maximillien and Widowmaker, perched on the edge of the rightmost aisle. She watches Widowmaker slink up the aisle, eyes shifting as she surveys the crowd with the same bored expression that she has had all night.

"I'll be right back," Satya whispers to Jamie.

" _I don't know if that's a good idea, love_ ," Lena pitches in through the static of the comm. " _She doesn't have her Widow's Kiss, sure, but she's still remarkable in hand to hand_."

"I'm not planning to fight her," Satya murmurs, taking her time to slowly idle in the hallways several meters behind Widowmaker, as if she was admiring the art. "Just a little espionage."

Satya knows she's rubbish at hand to hand — speaking of, she needed to get together with someone to help her train with that. She's not sure who would be best suited to teach her, though. McCree perhaps? Fareeha would be a good pick, too. 

She allows her mind to wander as she slowly trails Widowmaker, watching as the taller woman dips into a room off to the left. Satya passes by and pokes her head in, ready to make an excuse about just looking for the powder room, but all she finds is an empty room.

It's a large study, but it is only one room, and she's not quite sure where Widowmaker could have gotten off to. Books line the walls from floor to ceiling, showcasing hundreds of classics and first-editions, both of the rare and the popular genres. She spots _On the Origin of Species_ next to _Grey's Anatomy_ , both copies particularly worn and tattered with age.

There is a large oak desk, looking surprisingly well-used and taken care of, despite that the venue was commercial and wouldn't have a use for offices. She knits her eyebrows together and frowns, running her hands along it. No dust residue; either well taken care of or used frequently, she notes to herself. She's surprised to find the drawers are unlocked, though there is nothing of interest in them. A magnifier glass, some tweezers, some paper glue – book restoration tools, if she had to guess.

As she rustles around as quietly as she can in the desk, she notices a strange rattling sound, and smiles to herself. A false bottom.

She drops to a crouch, taking the items out of the drawer as quietly as she can, setting them on the carpet next to her. She removes the false bottom clumsily, every noise loud in the thrumming heartbeat that echoes through her ears. But all she finds beneath it is a key, taped to the real bottom of the drawer.

She stares at it, puzzled, rolling it around in her hands. It was a real key, for a mechanical lock – ornate, almost decorative if it weren't for the clear marks on the teeth where the bronze has worn down that it must be used. But it's 2077 — mechanical locks aren't used anymore, out of fashion and technologically obsolete. What would someone be doing with a real brass key?

Satya pockets the key in a hidden compartment in her gauntlet, the plating sliding back into place with a soft _click._ She quickly puts the drawer back together with minimal noise. She allows herself a little more time to snoop in here, her mind mulling over excuses she could say as she gazes at the books. More early Western literature classics — _The Scarlet Letter, Les Miserables, The Picture of Dorian Gray,_ oh, even a first edition of _Les mille et une nuits_. That was a rare one.

"Now, my dear Satya, I know you're smarter than this."

Satya freezes, the sound of that voice sending chills down her spine. She hasn't heard it in months, thought she was free from it, the same condescending bite in every back-handed compliment. She wills herself to not shake, and turns to face him with the grace of a power far above her.

Sanjay looks the same as always, sickly plastic smile with venom in his eyes, perfectly groomed and dressed. His brown eyes stare into hers with malice, tilting his head as he looks her up and down. Her skin crawls as his gaze sizes her up, heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest. She wants to vomit at the sight of him, at his smirk, knowing what she knows now.

_A tool to be used —_  
_Mine to shape —  
_ _Malleable and easy to manipulate —_

_A means to an end._  

"Showing your face so publicly, knowing we've been looking for you? Foolish girl. That's not the woman I built."

She sees red, fists clenching at her sides. Her nails bite painfully into her flesh hand.

"You built _nothing_ ," Satya hisses before she can help herself. "Your plans fell through the moment you could no longer use me. I am still here."

Sanjay chuckles, running a hand through his thick hair, slicked back into a stylish coif. "You truly understand nothing – you've never been able to see the big picture."

Satya feels a shock of rage run through her, tears threatening to prick at her eyes as they always do when she gets upset. Satya narrows her eyes, trying desperately to hold onto her composure. Sanjay knows exactly what buttons to push to launch her into a frenzied meltdown, and he was damn good at it. She just needs to buy time for Jamie to notice she's missing.

"And what is the big picture, exactly?" she asks, composure slipping slowly back to her.

 _This is just a game,_ she tells herself. _This is just a game, and it's one you can play._

He scoffs. "As if you'd understand anyway."

"Try me," she replies, following him as they circle each other around the room. She stares directly behind him, looking for anything she can use to defend herself when she gets back over there. She knows he won't attack her himself — that would be far beneath him, after all — but she knows she is not safe. She can feel it as the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, ears listening for every unfamiliar sound.

"You'd have to understand the decades that lead up to this, my dear Satya," he says, and she scowls at the way her name rolls of his tongue. _Vile, disgusting, filthy snake_. "I don't have time to get into the politics of it all, but trust me when I say that this is the way things need to happen. It truly is a shame you decided to betray us — your family, after all this? We rescued you from poverty, we fed you, clothed you, and you pay us back with —"

"I took back my own life," Satya snaps, her patience wearing thin as his monologue continued. "Maybe my life would have been nothing without Vishkar, but I will pay back all the evil I did tenfold. I will stop you no matter the cost."

There is the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway, and Sanjay's face curls into a smirk. They echo louder and louder, uneven and clanking, and Satya feels her heart beat so hard in her chest it hurts, hands shaking at her sides. Sanjay stands in front of the doorway to the study now, relaxing even as he stands with perfect posture.

"That would be my backup," Sanjay states, brushing off non-existent lint off of his white suitcoat. "It has been a pleasure, Satya, as always. I hope you've enjoyed the unsanctioned use of Vishkar technology while you've had it, since you won't for much—"

Satya hears a heavy thunk, and watches Sanjay's eyes roll back as he falls to the floor with a heavy thud. Jamie is there behind him, holding a heavy looking paper weight in the shape of a buddha. She rushes to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Jamie, thank goodness it was you."

He freezes beneath her, dropping the paperweight to the ground next to them, but shakily hugs her back, squeezing her tight. "You took a while to come back, so I figured y'was in trouble. Are y'ok?"

"I'm fine," she replies, pulling back and hearing more footsteps coming down the hallway. "But we have to go. He has Talon on the way."

Satya is bitter that she has to leave Sanjay, who is unfortunately alive, but unconscious at the floor beneath her. She wants to take him with her, make him tell her about every way he's ever manipulated her. She wants to hear it from his vile, traitorous mouth about all the ways he has wronged her.

She settles for spitting on his face and turning on her heel, following Jamie as they narrowly escape the disguised Talon troops.

* * *

 

Not again.

Helpless, useless —  
       At the mercy and whim of others, a painful _crunch_

       No arm, no hard light  
             Nothing special.  
                        Ordinary.

**U s e l e s s.**

* * *

****Hazori was pissed, which means that Morrison probably would be, too. He's sure they'll hear a mouthful of it when radio silence was over, but Jamie can't find himself to care about that right now.

He hated having to leave that rat behind, breathing and all, but he cared more about getting Satya to safety. He saw the way her eyes got wide when that shitbag threatened to take her arm.

He knows what it's like to be without an arm, first of all — an awfully helpless experiences, especially when you're used to having one. He knew she had never really had to deal with malfunctions or repairs, Vishkar technology keeping her gauntlet in tip top shape. He also knows how she feels about her hard light — she had called it "the thing that makes me special" once.

Jamie thinks about how he would feel if he couldn't make bombs anymore and shudders.

At the very least, they're back in their hotel room, safe and sound. He has trip mines set to stun anyone that tries to break in, and Satya's photon projector is tucked safely away, just under her pillow. Jamie stands in the shower now, enjoying the feeling of getting that gunk out of his hair and being out of the suit.

_The only suit I like is m'birthday suit, thank y'very much._

He will admit that despite how much he thinks it's a waste of water to shower so often, it is a luxury he doesn't mind being afforded. The hot water steams off his skin, pleasantly loosening up all of his taut muscles. He can feel his adrenaline slowly wearing off, limbs becoming heavier as the night rolls on.

He'll have a great, heavy sleep tonight thanks to the adrenaline crash, and he's looking forward to it. He can't imagine he'll be awake much longer on his own, even if Satya was still up. He doesn't mind her sounds around the room so much anymore, having gotten used to them already. His jammers are warm and soft, especially after being stuck in that suit all day.

Jamie thinks to himself about what he'll have for breakfast, as he quietly exits the bathroom. It's dark in here, the alarm clock giving a faint blue glow that he uses to find his way around as he gets ready for bed. Satya's asleep, soft, deep breaths that rise evenly from her huddled form under the covers.

She looks beautiful, he thinks, even with her eyebrows furrowed and a gentle scowl on her face as she dreams.

Fuck, he's  _still_ pissed about the snake that tried to hurt her.

Satya was one of the first few people not to give him the stink-eye on base, despite their rough start. A lot of the other members still don't trust him and Hog, especially the vets who had been there for the original coalition. They're just mercenaries to them, a reminder of the far cry of the once-great heroic organization of Overwatch. Shady people with shady pasts, only there to make a quick buck.

Now that he thinks about it, she's actually the first person besides Hog he would consider a friend.

Jamie turns to look at her as she whimpers, legs shifting under the blanket. He can't see much in the dark, but he can hear her restless movement, mumbling words in her sleep that he can't make sense of. He tries to ignore it, let her keep sleeping as he continue to get ready for bed.

Then she starts screaming.

Jamie doesn't think he's ever heard a more heartbreaking sound in his life, a voice as smooth and sophisticated as hers breaking as she cries. It's a feral scream, terrified, frantic and without hope. It's a scream he's heard too often, the sound launching him back ages into his adolescence, remembering the way he cried when he got his leg blown off. All alone in the bush, he screamed and screamed and screamed—

He scrambles onto the empty side of the bed and shakes Satya.

She awakes with a start, looking up at him with frantic eyes, her dark hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her chest heaves, and she clutches at his hands in terror, pushing weakly in her drowsiness for a moment. Then she realizes it's Jamie, and allows herself to sink into the bed beneath her.

"Sorry," he mumbles, sitting up next to her. "Y'were screamin'. Thought I should wake y' up." 

"No, I appreciate it," she says, still breathless, running a hand through her tangled hair. She usually braids it for bed, he noticed, but either didn't have the energy or the care to tonight. "I had a nightmare that was...particularly vivid."

There's a still silence between them, the kind that can only be found in a strange hotel room at one in the morning, before Satya clears her throat, embarrassed. Her eyes don't meet his, staring intently at the ceiling above them. He can practically see her thinking, brain working in overdrive.

"Y'wanna talk about it?" Jamie asks.

"No," Satya answers, far too quickly. "Sorry, no, not really. It...hit just a touch too close to home. After, well, after everything that happened tonight."

They let themselves fall into the silence again, and Jamie is contemplating finally rolling off onto the floor to sleep, but he feels the bed shake gently beneath him and he realizes that she's crying.

He's not sure what instincts drive him, but he lays on his back and scoops her up into his arms. She sobs on his chest, taking shuddering breaths as hot tears roll off her cheeks on onto his chest. He hums and murmurs to her the best he can, never been good with criers, rubbing her back in circles and running his good hand through her hair. Slowly, her breathing returns to normal, tears still wet and sticky through his shirt, her warmth seeping in through the layers of their clothes.

At some point he worries he's crossing a boundary – he's never done anything like this to begin with, not to mention with Satya. They were just friends. She likes her personal space, she likes her things just so — and Jamie? Well, he usually tends to be exactly the opposite of how she likes things.

But she's so warm, and despite the circumstances that got them here, he finds comfort in her weight on him. He finds comfort in the way their breathing slowly matches in sync, and the way her hand slowly relaxes out of the curled fist on his chest.

Just as he's about to crawl out of bed, she props herself up on her elbows and looks at him. That's heartbreaking too, he thinks. She looks embarrassed, eyes puffy from crying and just plain exhausted from the day's events.

"Would....Would  you mind staying?" she asks, not meeting his eyes. He can almost feel the flush on her cheeks, can see the nervous knit of her eyebrows even in the dark. "When I'm having...meltdowns I do better with pressure and touch. I usually have a weighted blanket, but I could not bring it... But if you'd rather not, I understand—"

He thinks of his own nightmares, of hazy deserts filled with ghosts of his past, of the gore and violence he saw far too young and frowns. He knows how it feels to wake up from that in a panic. He's drunk himself silly far too many nights just to make sure he didn't dream.

"Of course, Sat," Jamie replies, giving her a gentle smile. "I understand nightmares. 'S no fun."

He gives himself a moment to pop his prosthetics off, dropping them haphazardly to the floor at the side of the bed. As they settle into a comfortable position, her back pressing against his chest, his good arm wrapping around her waist, he tries not to think about how good she smells. His nose is basically pressed right into the fan of her hair, her head at the perfect height to get tucked underneath his chin.

She smells soft, elegant — and Jamie realizes he's never really smelled her before, other than the occasional passing hint of perfume. But this is just _her_ , no perfume or anything fancy. The smell of her shampoo, of clean skin and soap. It's soft, gentle, relaxing. He doesn't know much about flowers, but he bets that Hog could name them all off.

Satya's warm next to him, the shuddering of her body having finally stilled. She's not quite asleep yet, he can tell, her breathing not nearly deep enough, though she's trying. Her hands are curled up into little balls underneath her chin, twitching as she falls in and out of consciousness. He feels her belly rise and fall as her breathing slows, eyelashes fluttering.

Jamie doesn't realize how relaxed he is until he dozes off, and has the most restful sleep he's had in many, many years.


	7. i am teaching myself how to be free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you saw the stars out in front of you  
> too tempting not to touch  
> and even though it shocked you  
> something's electric in your blood
> 
> of various storms and saints // florence + the machine

 

Satya feels so _warm_.

She hums in content as she burrows further into her cocoon of blankets, further into the warmth that envelops her. It's when her warmth _moves_ , shifts to pull her in closer that her eyes snap open.

For a brief moment she's filled with panic — it's been so long since she's slept with anyone, since she's woken up with a body next to hers. She takes one look at the muscular arm currently wrapped around her waist, feels the leg thrown haphazardly over her own, and remembers what transpired last night. She breathes a sigh of relief — _okay, just a panic attack, not a one night stand._

As alarming as the sudden realization is that she is cuddling with _Jamie_ of all people, she still feels incredibly comfortable. It's soothing to have his weight on her, to feel his chest rise and fall evenly against her back. It's rhythmic, spurring her to match it with her own on some unconscious level. She hears him mumble something in his sleep, the tip of his nose nuzzling further into her hair. She smiles at the gesture of affection, though unintended, and allows herself to relax into him.

Maybe just a few more hours of sleep.

When she wakes again, it is to her phone ringing. The shrill noise is deeply offensive to her, and as much as she tries to ignore it, she knows she won't be able to go back to sleep after. She groans and rolls over to answer it, Jamie's sluggish form still wrapped around her.

"Symmetra here," she answers as professionally as she can with the grog of sleep in her mouth.

" _Good morning, sleepy head!_ " Lena's cheerful voice greets, far too chipper for Satya's sleep-addled brain. " _I know things went a little topsy turvy last night, but unfortunately we can't extract you yet. Airspace is crazy thanks to the festival. It won't die down enough for me to slip the Orca in and out undetected for a few more days._ "

"Understood," she says, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. She hasn't felt this out of sorts in the morning in a while, she must have slept in.

" _Is Junkrat there with you_?"

"Yes, one moment."

She turns to Jamie, shaking him gently. He groans in response, mumbling something unintelligible into her hair. He takes the phone though, laying it directly on his face.

"Wha y'want," he slurs, still mostly asleep if the way he keeps cuddling further into her is any indication. His nose presses into the dip of her spine, his breath hot through her shirt as he replies to Lena. It's actually quite amusing now, Satya thinks with a smile. She wonders what his reaction will be when he finally wakes up and sees how entangled they are — will he be embarrassed or take it in stride?

She briefly considers if she should really fuck with him.

_Better not._

After several garbled halves of conversation that Satya can hear, he drops the phone on the mattress in front of her. He throws a leg high over her waist and an arm over her shoulders, pulling her in closer almost via chokehold.

"Jamie," she murmurs softly.

" _No_ ," he grumbles, and she can almost see his eyebrows bunching up in irritation. "'S time for fuckin' sleep, fuck..."

"You can sleep as long as you'd like, Jamie," she says, firmly patting the arm slung over her. "But it's time for me to get up."

"Fine, fuck, just lemme sleep..."

"You are attached to me. I can't get up, Jamie."

That seems to rouse him a bit, though he is grumbling, slow for a moment as though he is processing what she said. Then he scrambles off of her, blush heavy in his cheeks as he rolls over onto his back.

"Uh, shit, sorry Sat," he mumbles, clearing his throat and refusing to meet her eye. "I, uh, shoulda warned you 'm a cuddler. Like a heat-seekin' missile or somethin' when I'm asleep. Just latch onta body heat like a fuckin' koala to a tree or some shit—"

Ah, yes, the rambling. He's embarrassed for sure.

"Jamie," she interrupts, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Everything's okay. It was nice to sleep next to someone, actually. The weight and warmth was comforting, and I slept nightmare free afterwards. Thank you."

She watches his expression change through a few emotions, none of them she can place, before he gives her an embarrassed smile. "Welcome."

* * *

 

"We're stuck here for a few more days, then?" Jamie asks through a mouth half full of food, scarfing down his breakfast like an animal. 

"Indeed," Satya replies, sipping casually at her morning tea.

"What the hell are we gonna do?"

Satya sits on this for a moment, chewing thoughtfully on her eggs as she considers. There are plenty of things to do in Cannes, a plethora of sights to see and places to go. It seems strange to mix pleasure and business, but she was no longer in Vishkar and they had three days to kill. It would be a waste of a trip to spend them all completely cooped up in their hotel room.

"Well, it's a beautiful city. Let's go and explore it. We can keep up our cover easily as well – a married couple out on holiday, enjoying the pleasantries of coastal France."

"Yeah, sure, why not," Jamie shrugs, finishing up his breakfast plate and putting it back noisily on the room service cart. "I don't got nothin' I wanna do, so whatever you wanna do."

They end up on the promenade.

It's bustling with tourists and locals alike, a bright Saturday morning perfect for shopping, idling about and catching a bite to eat. She hears the crowds chattering in French, the basic conversational French she knows perking up her ears as she hears familiar words here and there.

They browse shops and the like, and Satya can't help but admit she's amused by how excited Jamie gets by everything. She supposes he must not have really had a chance to shop for most of his life, though she had heard of his...expeditions after he got out of the Bush. She watches him run his fingers along the various fabrics, silk shirts and satin blouses, feeling the different textures catch on the callouses of his hands. She does the same, hiding a smile and resisting the urge to call him over to feel _how soft this one is_!

They meander over to the jewelry case, where she sees Jamie get wide eyes. Sparkly things are his weakness, as he had once told her, while recounting the story about how him and Hog had stolen the crown jewels. She smiles to herself, squeezing harder on the arm she's tucked herself into.

" _Behave_ ," she whispers.

Of course, as soon as she says this, she sees a piece that catches her eye. A delicate necklace piece, attached to thin golden chain, gemstones of blues and greens glittering in the light to form a peacock.

Satya's never been a woman much interested in jewelry — she finds it impractical and when she wears it for formal occasions, the unfamiliar weight bothers her all night without fail. She feels drawn to this piece, though — it's small, maybe the size of an olive, but must have dozens of gems in the dainty piece.

She pulls Jamie along and asks the shopkeeper to bring it out from the case in broken French.

"Ya like stuff like that?" Jamie asks her as she rolls the piece around in her hands, watching the stones twinkle in the changing light.

"Not usually," she replies. "But I want this one. I'm not sure why. _Excusez-moi, monsieur? Oui, je voudrais acheter ce...euh—_ "

Thankfully, the shopkeeper nods steadily and she doesn't have to continue to embarrass herself with her poor French. She pays as someone wraps it up for her in a neat little package, which she drops into her purse.

They continue on the promenade, stopping at a café for to grab a bite to eat. It's a quaint little place, bustling as the shops around close for lunch time. She nibbles at her sandwich, pleased with the rich flavors, especially considering it was a light meal for her.

Jamie seems to be enjoying the experience of just _being_. Considering he was wanted in several countries, Satya supposes it must be nice to exist in the outside world without worrying about if he's going to get arrested. He gets to enjoy modern comforts, things he didn't have in Junkertown or while they were on the run — enjoying a lunch at a café, browsing shops and

They are just considering getting up when they start hearing the screams and gunfire.

It's a haunting noise, the cacophony of chaos around them as military boots pound closer to them —Talon grunts, no doubt. They take advantage of the ensuing panic and sprint away from the sound with the rest of the crowd, making sure to latch onto each other. They turn off quickly into an alley, hiding themselves behind a dumpster, pressed into one another. Satya fumbles into her purse to pull out her comm and press it into her ear.

"Tracer, we need _emergency_ extraction! Talon is pressing forward into the city. I repeat, we need emergency extraction."

" _I can meet you at the airspace, can you make it there_?"

Satya grimaces, head thunking against the hard metal of the dumpster. The airspace would take forever for them to get to by foot, but they risked getting shot down mid-air or getting exposed if Lena came to pick them up.

"We're going to have to."

" _Symmetra,_ " Winston's voice pops on, " _we were able to get into their frequency for just a minute. They're looking for you, be careful_."

_Shit._

"Sym, we gotta go."

The footsteps are closing in around them, rhythmic thumping and gruff voices getting louder, echoing off the brick walls of the alleyway. As they run out towards the other end of the alley to break into the next street, she sees more Talon soldiers making their way on that end, too.

_Double shit_.

She turns to Jamie, pulls her photon projector out and looks at him with hard eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"Well—yeah?"

"Good," she says with a breath. "This is going to seem stupid, reckless and crazy. But I'm going to get us to the other side, okay?"

"Reckless an' crazy is my kinda fightin'!"

She charges forward, right into the swarm of Talon agents and launches shock after shock to them, plowing her way through the crowd.

The gunfire and shouts in her set her alight in a strange way, adrenaline coursing through her veins. A bullet grazes her at some point, her brain idly registering the burning sensation but forcing her to push through it. Someone pulls her down at some point, hard enough to make her slam her head into the asphalt below her. Her eyes see stars upon impact, a gasp the only thing that can escape from her mouth in the moment of blinding pain.

Panic floods her lungs as she fights back against the soldier, limbs weak and head still spinning. His hands reach for her neck, to subdue her, to kill her maybe — but Jamie pulls whoever it is off and they trudge onward. 

Blood spatters across his cheeks, tinging his blonde hair muddy, and she knows none of it is his own. She doesn't want to think about the injury that caused that kind of trajectory. She rips through her skirt with a hard light knife so she's not so restricted, and the cool breeze makes her all the more aware of the blood dripping in various places once they have a moment to take it all in.

They're by no means safe, huddled up against a wall with dozens of Talon agents on the other side, bullets hammering into their cover. She can feel the vibrations shimmy down her spine, rattling her even more than the adrenaline itself was. Jamie's fished out his grenade launcher now at least, so she's not alone in picking off their combatants.

Sounds of fighting roar through their ears, and they take a minute to breathe, and think of plan.

* * *

 

Jamie realizes that he's maybe never seen Satya really  in action before 

He knows what she does, sure, she's demonstrated for him dozens of times. He's watched her craft turrets in their live testing room, watched her disappear in and out of a teleporter, seen her craft things out of nothing. But it's different to watch her in the thick of it all.

He understands now why her combat uniform is the way it is, why she prefers shorts and open-slit skirts over more constricting clothing items in combat. She moves with a grace he has never had himself, awkward and gangly as he is, muscles stretching and tensing in sync.

Her stocking is torn, little wells of blood from her scratches and wounds surfacing, though not her most concerning injury. He watches blood drip down her jaw, thick sideburns plastered to her face, sticky and wet. She doesn’t appear hurt too bad, he knows head wounds bleed like a stuck pig, but he can imagine she's got a hell of headache.

Her hips sway as she forms turret after turret, before ducking into cover from the incoming gun fire. She peeks around the corner every so often to fire a photon blast, while Jamie lobs grenades out with his launcher when he can to cover her. They want to keep property destruction to a minimum, but if it's between the historical district of Cannes and their lives, Jamie will choose living any day of the week.

"Junkrat, can you cover me? I'm going to try to form a teleporter to get us out of here."

It feels strange to hear her call him _Junkrat_ , after being Jamie for so long. But it's important in the field, especially with his massive bounty. Important since they're still underground, technically off the books.

"On it, Symm."

He belts out grenades with an unfiltered laugh, watching the Talon scum scramble to avoid the onslaught, blindly shooting in his general direction. They miss, of course, bullets hitting pavement and brick, scuffing up small bursts of powder as they imbed themselves in the concrete filling.

"Okay, Junkrat," Satya yells over the chaos of gunfire and his explosions, hand on his shoulder as she talks into his ear. "I need you to lay down a row of mines, so that they trip my turrets, which will explode the mines."

"Kay."

"And I need you to leave a bomb outside the teleporter, so it explodes any trace of it."

"Gotcha," he says, digging on his harness. He grits his teeth — trying to pull out his mines one-handed and aim his launcher at the same time is hard. He very nearly almost shoots a grenade at the wall they're hiding behind.

"Can I help?" Satya asks.

"Mines 're done in by straps on my vest, all y'gotta do is get 'em off and toss 'em where ya need 'em."

He feels Satya's deft hands fumble at the back of harness, and he feels the pressure on his shoulders gradually lighten as she tosses them out one by one into a surprisingly straight line.

"Remember, my teleporter can't go far, it's only fifty meters or so away, which doesn't give us much a of a headstart even if they can't find us," she reminds him. "We'll have to move fast to Lena's location. Ready to go?"

He pops a grenade out and lights it, quickly dropping it to the ground before grabbing Satya by the waist and pulling her through the teleporter.

He's never been through the teleporter before. He admits he wasn't quite sure what to expect, but it isn't _this_. The immediate transition from smoking alleyway to otherwise pristine entryway of some random business is enough to make his head spin, feet unsteady beneath him. Satya catches his faltering weight, practically dragging him along with her as she continues forward.

"Sorry, I would normally give you a moment to get your bearings," she says, leading him as he continues to stumble forward, "but we can't waste any time. Going through the teleporter for the first time can be quite disorienting, but try to avoid vomiting until we get on the ship."

"I'll try m'best," Jamie snorts with an eye roll, before feeling the very real threat of puking  comes up. The walls spin a bit, but he does his best to keep going, even if he's clumsy.

He's surprised Satya can drag him along for this long, he weighs at least a solid fifty kilos over her and is considerably taller. She must be a hell of a lot stronger than she looks under all those soft curves.

They hear Talon shouts edge closer and closer even as they continue to trudge on. Satya pulls them into a closed off alley, before practically propping him up against a wall. He slides down the rough exterior of the wall, barely feeling the way the brick scratches up his back, or the way it catches on his harness.

"We're only two hundred meters from our extraction point," Satya whispers, patting his head with cool hands to alleviate some of his nausea. "Can you make it through another teleporter trip?"

The thought of the wooziness that came with the last one is enough to almost make him toss up his lunch again, but he nods. He'll close his eyes or something. That'll work, right?

He watches her craft another teleporter, dark eyes closed as he face pinches in concentration. Her hips sway with the movement, automatic, natural, with the skill of an expert. He wonders if it's unintentional, one of those natural things her body made itself do, or if it was one of her tricks in order to remind herself how to do it. He has a few of those.

"Okay, up you go," she whispers again, slinging his arm around her neck. He's feeling somehow even worse now, like when he got food poisoning in Sydney and it hit him really slow. He scrunches up his face in preparation, hoping it will help with the feeling of his stomach dropping.

It doesn't.

Even with his eyes closed, it's like he's in free fall, either cause him and Hog are doing stupid shit on the bike or he's headed back down from a mine jump. He can't hold himself back now, and vomits as soon as they hit the other side through the teleporter. Satya drags him along all the while without missing a beat, and his brain gets hazier as they continue on, his legs like jelly underneath him. He honestly isn't sure how Satya is still keeping them going.

The details are fuzzy then, only briefly aware of time passing in his lucid moments he has in between yakking on the sidewalk. When he finally comes to and stops feeling so grotesquely nauseous, he finds himself clutching a rubbish bin full of spit and of whatever vomit he had left by the time he got his ass hauled into the Orca.

Jamie groans, rolling his head to look at Satya, who is rubbing her temples. She's uncharacteristically slouched on the cushioned bench, eyes red and tired.

"'M sorry," Jamie mumbles, setting aside the waste bin and stretching out the kinks in his neck. He's still a little woozy, but the cold sweat is gone at least. "Haven't gotten sick like that in a long time."

"It's fine," Satya replies, voice tight. "Some people react poorly to teleportation. It felt like a...very intense version of motion sickness, correct?"

"Yeah. Sick t'my stomach, dizzy, th'whole bit."

"Yes. I knew it was a possibility you would react that way, but we had to take the risk. There was no other way we could have gotten out of there."

Her voice shakes a bit on the end, and Jamie thinks he can see tears welling in her eyes. He can see the deep breaths she takes, her tell tale sign she's trying not to cry.

He's faced death plenty of times in his life. He used to face it every hour back in Junkertown, back when he was just a lone kid in an irradiated wasteland. The possibility and likelihood of death was nothing new for him, just part of his life. But it occurs to Jamie that maybe she isn't the same way.

"Hey, Satya?"

She perks up for a moment, a smile on her lips. "I think that's the first time you've ever used my full name."

"Don't get used ta it," he laughs. "But hey, uh...we came real close t' carkin' it out there. Y'okay?"

She laughs for a moment, but it's not really _her_ laugh. This one is harsh, forced, strained; it seems strange for a sound like that to come out of her mouth. She runs a hand through her hair, wincing as the blood-soaked strands pull at her scalp.

"No, I'm not, really," Satya says, staring straight forward, giving a deep sigh. "I don't feel prepared enough, but will I ever? It's simply a...change of pace for me, one I must learn to get used to — like everything else.”

“Change ‘s hard,”Jamie supplies, letting his eyes flutter closed, finally feeling better with the rocking of the ship. “Me an’ Hog are used t’ change, and comin’ here was still rough. Can’t imagine how it is for you, leavin’ your family an’ all, too.”

There’s a pause, and Jamie allows himself to sneak a peek at her. He can see her face scrunched up, trying not to cry, though the tears shine in her eyes. She lets out a harsh sob, instantly bringing her face into her hands to hide.

_Oh, fuck._

“Shit, Sat, I’m sorry,” he says, scrambling up to his feet despite the lightheadedness that rushes through him. "I didn't mean to."

It's almost like déjà vu, compared to the night before. She sits, curled into his shoulder as she cries and he scrambles for something assuring to say. He never knows what to say, isn't really experienced with criers. And well, he's _really_ not sure what to do with Satya.

Satya always seems so strong, so fearless, so unfazed by — well, anything. She holds her head high, always struts through the halls with the will and grace of some deity far above his own station. If he's honest with himself, it breaks his heart to watch her cry.

"It's fine," she stutters out after a few moments, sniffling. She pulls away from him, wiping her tears with as much dignity as she can muster. She seems almost back to normal now, as if she hadn't been weeping in his arms just seconds before. "I'm alright now. Thank you, Jamie."

"Yeah, I don't buy that crap for a second."

She looks at him, shocked, then deflates.

"Maybe I'm not alright," she supplies, "but I'm going to have to be. To my _family_ , I was nothing more than a business investment. Collateral. Here? Here I am an outsider, and no one knows quite what to think of me. I have nothing and no one, and that's simply my reality now." She takes a breath, looking up at the ceiling. "It's just...I've never had to worry about my future before. Where I would go, what I would do. It was always Vishkar. The — The uncertainty is...terrifying."

Jamie can relate to that.

He supposes it wasn't so terrifying to him, since it simply _was_ for so much of his life. He lived for decades without knowing where his next meal would come from — if he would even _have_ a next meal. He lived in constant threat of being killed in his sleep, could have really carked it when his amputations came along. He still doesn't know how he survived those; he can only remember faint fever dreams and even then, he's not sure how real his memories from back then are.

"'M not sure what t' say," he replies, looking at his hands in his lap as he fiddles with them. "But I'm in the same boat, y'know? Never known anythin' about what th' next day'd bring. Still feel that way. Hard habit t' kick."

There's a pause, the silence seeping into comfortable territory, the air around them not so palpable with tension anymore. He feels Satya relax next to him, lean into him  and it makes him feel warm in a way he can't describe.

He feels his eyes drooping, tired finally from the crashing of his own adrenaline.

"Thank you," Satya says. "I needed that."

"Didn't do much," he protests with a low mumble.

"You did enough."


	8. they'll never know how i stared at the dark in that room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all of this turbulence wasn't forecasted  
> apologies from the intercom  
> and I am relieved that I'd left my room tidy
> 
> last words of a shooting star // mitski

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we earn our M rating in this one, boys. /eye emoji

The base's medical bay is an abysmal stay. 

Satya isn't even all that injured, aside from the concussion. But as Angela continues to say, " _better safe than sorry_ " and she is kept in the med bay for three days for observation. Her head pounds the entire time from the bright fluorescents and overwhelming stench of ammonia, coupled with her head injury. She has nothing to do, her brain focusing on everything around her, unfamiliar and booming loud in the still silence.

Jamie had brought over her weighted blanket the first night. The warm notion had made her smile, the thought that he remembered what she had said and at the gesture to bring it. He brought it over wordlessly, just laid it across her and sat in the chair next to her. He kept her company, keeping her up with conversation and just being quiet with her when she became overwhelmed.

She's finally on her way back to her room, ready to envelop herself in a nice, warm shower and _sleep_. Sleep for the last few days has been minimal, if any, uncomfortable with the firm mattress, all the monitors stuck to her and the unfamiliar noises. Angela is a kind soul, of course, but Satya's convinced the woman must be a secret sadist to make anyone stay in that place.

It's a relief to be out of those sticky clothes, able to take a shower with her own scents and collapse in her own sheets. She feels her whole body relaxing when she doesn't feel the rough, overly starched medbay linens beneath her.

Satya takes a moment to breathe, to enjoy the quiet she has missed so dearly. There is no greater relief than this, the still ringing in her ears that signify true silence. Her body sinks into her bed, and she curls her blankets around herself.

 _Just a small nap before breakfast_.

* * *

 

_"_ _Behave._ _"_

_Her voice is smooth but firm in his ear, hot breath on his neck as a perfectly manicured hand wraps around his cock. Jamie shivers, pulling at the hard light ropes wrapped intricately across his chest, binding his arms behind him. HIs cock aches as her soft hand works him fully, her deft movements unraveling him far too quickly for his tastes._

_"B-But Sat—"_

_"What did I just tell you, Jamison?"_

_Her hands are fuckin' magic, and the helplessness of it all only adds to how good it makes him feel. He can feel himself coming close, coming undone beneath her fingers, feel her warm curves at his back. The candlelight flickers around the room, sweat dripping down his chest._

_"If you're a good boy for me, you'll get a reward_."

_He gasps and then —_

Jamie finds himself in a sticky situation.

He is not in some heavenly room of erotic intention, he is in his messy Overwatch dorm room, and he is remarkably alone. His briefs are sticky against him, and he's uncomfortably warm, sweat soaking the sheets beneath him. Jamie groans loudly, exasperated this time, almost wanting to kick his feet at how _unfair_ it all was .

 _First of all_ , Satya was hot enough to make him think about her while masturbating pretty frequently. Secondly, the way she had said " _Behave_ " the other day on the mission was enough to give him goosebumps _then_. Thirdly, he had a wet dream about her and didn't even get to enjoy his orgasm!

And now he's gotta spend all damn day washin' his sheets.

_Not bloody fair._

* * *

 

The silence at the table is...awkward. 

The only seat left at breakfast was next to Hana and Lúcio. While Hana was enjoyable, if not a bit overwhelming at times with her rapid fire talking and her handheld volume _always_ up, Satya and Lúcio's relationship is still painfully polite at best. There's still an awkward tension underneath it all that neither can really push past. It makes her nauseous, her hungry stomach protesting at the sight of the otherwise delicious food in front of her.

Hana is what keeps the conversation at the table relatively comfortable, even as Satya finds herself unable to eat, choosing to instead sip at her tea in hopes that it will calm her stomach. Hana is pleasant and bubbly this morning, excited about some new game that's set to release this weekend. She's in the process of planning a stream with her agent, talking about giveaway potentials for fans that join in live and what kind of sponsorship they could get from the developing company. She's excited, she hasn't had a lot of time to tend to her streaming career since joining Overwatch on the low, telling fans she's been stepping away more and more citing "health reasons."

  
Satya can tell it hurts Hana to have to step away from the hobby that helped make her career, that shaped her as a person. But she knows that much like herself, Hana feels proud to do some good. Even if no one will be able to recognize or praise it. 

When Hana steps away to take a call from her agent, it is just her and Lúcio.

The awkward tension is palpable, and Satya can taste it in the air. She almost feels as if the entire room is watching them, waiting for the explosive drama to begin. Whether its to watch the show or stop them from killing each other, she's not sure.

She knows he blames her for what happened in Rio, and she doesn't forsake him for that – she blames herself, too. It's uncomfortable working with someone who was once your enemy, and it must be even more frustrating for him, because she used to be the villain.

In several ways, she still is.

"Lúcio," she starts, after clearing her throat. "I know that things between us will likely always be tense. I am violently aware that I am at fault for that."

She's not quite sure what propels her to speak, maybe she's still loopy from the concussion, but she feels small besides him and his sympathetic gaze. He seems just as uncomfortable as she is, but she cannot stop herself from the word vomit that spews out of her mouth.

"I know that my actions now will not make up for the atrocities I committed under Vishkar, and I know that my failings are on my conscience, not yours. But I hope that we can work together while we are here. And if there is anything I can ever do to give back to the Rio community, please let me know. I would be grateful to assist you in any way I can."

"Thank you, Satya," Lúcio replies, his smile tight and uncomfortable, but genuine nonetheless. "I don't know if we'll ever be friends, y'know. There's too many memories."

Satya laughs. "Understandably."

"But I know that you're not like the rest of the Vishkar goons. I know you want to make up for it. I don't know if I'll ever like you, but I respect you."

Satya feels the strain in her heart loosen just a little, the grip of guilt relaxing its claws in her stomach ever so slightly. "I respect you, too. Thank you for this, if only for the little bit of my conscience you have alleviated."

Lúcio laughs this time, real and unbridled, as he digs back into his breakfast. "You suits all take yourselves too seriously. Don't worry about me. But when I can use you, I'll call on ya. Deal?"

She smiles, taking a small bite of her own breakfast, appetite returned. "It is a deal."

* * *

 

Hopping in the shower and throwing his sheets in the washer took longer than he thought, and Jamie grumbles at the realization that he missed breakfast. He snoops back into the kitchen to grab a quick bite to quiet his rumbling stomach, some kind of breakfast bar that's soft and fruity.

He chews on it as he thinks on what to do for the day. His mind isn't calm enough for him to even think about tinkering yet, and he feels restless as hell today. His muscles ache for him to do _something_.

When he felt like this back in Junkertown, he would take on jobs. Usually just supply runs, hauling back liters of water or food from the few parts of the Bush near them that weren't completely toxic. It's not a particularly skilled job, but certainly requires a form of manual labor that many people weren't physically capable of. Sometimes he'd pass out on the way back if he hadn't eaten enough, face down in the wasteland sun.

But he doesn't have to do that anymore, he reminds himself. He's well-fed, Angela takes care of his radiation poisoning, and he has more energy than he knows what to do with now.

Jamie doesn't do well beneath the gaze of others, far too used to the way people watched each other in Junkertown. Scouring him from top to bottom, to see if killing him is worth the energy —

_what's in his pockets?_

_Is he weak?_

_Any weapons?_ —

It makes him unnecessarily hostile to others, he knows, his walls up higher than a damn skyscraper.

He has to physically restrain himself from baring his teeth when a few people glance his way as he enters the gym. He doesn't need any more hostility directed at him, not that it's so bad anymore. Everyone's gotten used to him and Roadie for the most part, barring a few major exceptions. Mei still gives him icy glares whenever he enters a room, and Hana and Brigitte — practically damn kids — still don't know what to think of the Junkers, though they were never rude outright. But he can read an uncomfortable smile from a kilometer away by now.

He wants to lift weights, tire himself out, but that area is occupied by several people, most noticeably Zarya, who is lifting a ridiculous amount to the awe of the small audience that’s gathered around her.

 _Not even breaking a sweat_ , he notices, nodding approvingly.

He ends up grabbing the punching bag that laid sadly on the floor, heaving the heavy weight over his shoulders and hops on the treadmill. The weight is heavier than he's used to, more spread out, working over areas that he's not used to using. The thick plastic sticks to his skin as he begins to sweat, peeling off of him when he adjusts the weight.

"Hey there, pal," McCree asks, wiping his own sweat with a towel. "What'cha doin' there?"

"Exercisin'," Jamie replies, trying not to scowl. "We're in th' gym."

"Why y' running damn military trainin' exercises? Even Morrison doesn't make us do those anymore."

Jamie grits his teeth as the incline raises, struggling with his peg. He had forgotten to turn that function off, he hates those damn inclines. The peg never does well on them without a stable surface to anchor himself on.

"'M restless an' mad an' I don't wanna snap at ya, but I will if ya don't get the hell outta my face, McCree."

McCree puts up his hands. "Sorry, bud. Didn't mean to poke at ya. See ya at lunch."

Jamie nods mindlessly, able to finally balance the bag against his shoulders for long enough to turn the incline off. He stumbles as the track lowers itself, peg catching in the seam between the track and the foundation, and he falls flat on his face. Pain blossoms across his head, the punching bag's weight slamming him down even harder into the ground with his fall. Someone pulls it off of him, rolls him over and helps him sit up, though he can't tell who. He can tell he's bleeding, hands coming back wet and sticky as he gropes at it in an effort to soothe the pain.

Other hands bat away his own from his face, calloused and firm, and he feels hands grab at his hands and hold his legs down. He panics, breath catching in his throat, struggling against whoever is holding him down—

_Get off, get _ _off_ _!_

_Not yours, this is_ _mine_

_Not takin' another_

_damn_

_ar—_

"It's just us, Junkrat," Ana's familiar voice soothes, her hands squeezing his shoulders. "I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt."

Jamie lets out a string of curses as she resets his nose, pain so bright he sees white. He feels something cool wipe away at the blood on his face and his hands, Ana's voice tutting next to his ear. "You'll be fine, hush."

Now he's mad, restless, and in pain. Angela's gonna fuss over him, though he knows Ana won't make him see her — but she sure will throw a fit once she sees his fucked up face at some point. He hates the way she fusses, hands poking and prodding without enough of a warning. It's bad enough he's gotta see her once a month for his normal checkups.

He lets Zarya help him up, who says something to him he can't quite seem to understand. He shrugs everyone off, feeling practically itchy at all of their hands on him, foreign, uncomfortable. He knows they mean well, but he can't stop himself from the memories. He doesn't want to lash out at them, make a bad scene for him and Hog, ruin their only real chance to go legit.

He finally hears Hog's voice as he hobbles out into the hallway, deep and clear as day amidst the mumble and chatter of everyone else.

"Let him go. Leave him be."

* * *

 

Satya finds herself wandering the base outside, tablet in hand as she listens to the ocean waves crash against the cliffside. The cool air feels good today, skin warm under the mostly uninterrupted sunshine, appreciating the fresh air after being stuck inside for days. Usually she finds it much too distracting to try to work outside, but lots of people were taking it easy today, some venturing out to town to pick up supplies as well as do some personal shopping.

She decides to climb the tower of the "lighthouse" — it functions in that capacity, but also it stores a remarkable amount of their data. It's also a rudimentary security system, able to alert them of possible aircraft and ships coming their way. It's calm and quiet in there, able to drown out most of the sounds below while letting her hear the calming ocean waves.

She's surprised to find Fareeha here, sitting cross-legged as she has an old, weathered journal open. She seems surprised to see Satya up here, but smiles and gestures across from her, going back to her reading without another glance. Satya settles herself in, knees supporting her tablet as she begins drawing.

She's grateful for the comfortable silence between them, and she can't even find herself distracted by the sounds of turning pages or the occasional chuckle that comes out of Fareeha.

Hana had asked her to design some home schematics for some video game she was streaming, and Satya needs an architecture project to work on anyway. Designing is a peaceful distraction for her, a way to set her mind in flow when the rest of the world is in chaos. It is structure, it is all that is right with the world, a power at her fingertips to shape the world into what it should be.

At that thought, she frowns. Who is she to determine what the world should be?

She spent so long fighting on the wrong side, allowing others to manipulate her into committing horrible acts. She wonders if the lies about the "good" they were doing in Rio applies to other places as well — New York, Dakar, Hong Kong? She was personally involved in all of those projects, a beacon of hope to those who began in poverty after the Omnic Crisis, a chance to live a life of luxury and decadence in the utopias Vishkar could create for them.

She wonders if Vishkar was just better about quieting the resistance there. She wonders how much of that she was unknowingly apart of, how much of it she willingly took pride in. The lines are so blurred now, her once-perfect past of order and structure had turned into a maelstrom of chaos. The thought alone wrenches her stomach, yet another reminder that she will always carry this guilt on her shoulders.

She can make up for it all she wants, but nothing will ever dispel her shame.

She knows this, and she hates it.

Satya sets her tablet aside, resting her head on her knees and staring out to the ocean. She watches the waves roll onto the beach and retreat, over and over again. Seagulls soar above, swooping down to catch their lunch, their usually incessant calls mysteriously quiet today. The clouds have rolled in, blanketing the base in an eerie darkness unbecoming of a place that holds so much light in her heart.

"Fareeha, may I ask you a favor?"

Cutting the silence feels odd to her, but Fareeha does not seem perturbed at all.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Would you be willing to help me improve my physical combat skills?" Satya feels almost silly asking for something so rudimentary. "I was never given proper training and I...find myself sorely underprepared in these situations. I don't want to be a damsel."

Fareeha laughs. "Of course. You're an early riser, right?"

"Unless Angela takes me hostage in the med bay, yes."

"Excellent. Tomorrow at sunrise, meet me in the training room."

* * *

 

He's back in the Bush. 

Jamie's younger, then, scraggly, before he filled out completely into his awkward bones, perpetually gangly. Anyone who saw him thought he was sick and starving, picking on him all too often to steal from. He's woken up far too many times to people nicking his things, Jamie himself only armed with a rusty old Bowie knife he had found on a scrap run. He's done okay with it a few times, others not so much.

He starts sleeping less.

That part isn't so bad. Learns how to use scrap to rig some downright sneaky trip mines, lots of extra time to learn how to protect himself and catch awful little snaggers who thought they had some claim to his things. It's fun to see the panic in people's eyes as they realize they caught his trip mine, eyes widening to pinpricks, the half breath of a scream they take just before —

 _Boom_.

             — and then they're gone.

It's not so fun when it's him. 

It's stupid of him. He's usually so careful, usually knows exactly where he puts his trip mines, knows his patterns. But it had gotten mucked up somehow, he doesn't know when or how – but his mine was in the wrong place. He's alive, at least, but fuck – something _hurts_.

When he gets his bearings, ears still ringing, he looks up to see his leg. Which is weird, laying on his stomach and – oh. That's why he hurts so bad. It's ugly, that's for damn sure, but he's more concerned about the blood pouring out of him. His head spins for a moment immediately, bile rising up in his throat.

He gulps it down, and takes care of it. The process is nauseating, painful, but he manages to wait until whatever the fuck is left of his leg is cauterized and wouldn't bleed out overnight. He coats it in whatever medical salve he's got left from his supplies, vomits and passes out.

The stump isn't a problem for the most part. He's lucky it hasn't gotten infected, and seemed to be healing okay for a botch job done at home, in a dirty tent with his hands covered in grime and grease.

The trouble is when other people hear about it. He hasn't been able to put out his trip mines, barely able to crawl out of the tent to shit, let alone defend himself. He's more tired than he's ever been in his life, pulled into fever dreams against his will two or three times a day, waking up with a start to every sound around him.

One day he finally wakes up to thieves, again, but they laugh when he pulls out his knife. One of them lazily points a gun at him, covered in dirt and grime and rust, but he can't take the chance to see if it works. He's lucky they leave him alive regardless, though he doesn't get away without some cuts and bruises.

The terror had hardened in him, the paranoia is justifiable, and damn all these other people who couldn't get that. Couldn't understand what they had abandoned everyone to out in the Bush, suits living their lives on the coast, "land locked" to their high rises and ocean breezes. Just the thought alone is enough to make him see red, curl his hands so tight his knuckles turn white.

A knock lands heavy on his door, and he's back home now.

It almost takes him a second to remember that he's _here_ , in Gibraltar with Overwatch, in his own room with a lock and his own swanky digs.

"C'mon in."

There's a beep as the system recognizes his command and his door slides open, and he's surprised to see Satya, not Roadie at his door. She gasps, hand covering her face as she quickly steps inside to let the door close back behind her.

"Jamie, what on... Why are you covered in blood?"

Oh. He forgot to wash that bit off. Whoops.

"Uh, broke m' nose earlier. Haven't had a chance t' clean up yet."

Satya sits next to him, her face twisted into one of concern, spotting the angry purple bruises that have bloomed over his legs and his face. If anyone else made that face at him, it would send him into a fury of swears and spits. He hates the way people look at him like that when he's injured, like he's _damaged_ , like he's suddenly incapable of caring for himself. It's why he hates doctors, why he hates Angela, and why he couldn't bear to look any of them in the face as he slunk out of the gym.

But Satya's face is different. It's softer in a way he can't describe, a strange feeling blossoming in his chest. She gingerly places a hand at his back and he has to resist the urge to lean into it.

"Go clean up, Jamie. I'll wait here."

He's thankful for the privacy she gives him, while he hops in the shower to scrub the blood off of him. When he comes back out, feeling somewhat refreshed though still like crap, he finds Satya already nested in the corner of his bed. Her holopad is on her lap as she sketches, and she barely bats an eye as he settles in besides her.

He likes watching her work, likes noticing the little things she does when she's especially focused. She taps all her fingers to her thumb back and forth while she's thinking about what to do next. After she finishes something particularly satisfying for her, she'll twirl the pen in her fingers just once. She powers it down after a bit, seemingly satisfied for the moment, finally able to pull herself away.

"Y'ever have t' deal with the looks y' get?" Jamie asks, letting himself focus on the fabric of his blanket, picking out pilled bits from the top. "Make y' feel like y' need t' be coddled an' shit for no other reasons than you're an amputee? Hate that shit."

Satya hums, her own hands keeping busy with smoothing out her pants.

"Never from being an amputee," she remarks. "I...Well, now that I know what I know, I realize it wasn't exactly a choice I had, but my arm was given voluntarily."

Jamie shoots her a look.

"I was told it was the only way to be the best," she says, voice barely above a whisper. "I had to be the best. It was the only way I'd be worth anything. When they told me to kill, I killed. When they told me to build, I built. When they told me that in order to reach my full potential as an architech, I had to get a prosthetic, I asked when my surgery was."

"Monsters," is all Jamie can growl out.

"Maybe so," Satya replies. "But so was I."

There's a silence between them, not uncomfortable but powerful all the same. His hand finds hers, squeezes it tight, and he's pleasantly surprised when she squeezes back.

"We all do things t' survive," Jamie says, voice rough, eyes faraway. "What matters is what we do when we have a choice."

Satya hums again, the sound strangely soothing to him. Her thumb rubs gentle circles on the back of his hand, enough to anchor him back to the present.

"What happened?" she asks finally, glancing pointedly at his nose.

"Tripped on the treadmill. Had th' punchin' bag on my shoulders, that's what prob'ly broke m' nose."

Satya chuckles. "I can bet that hurt, though the imagery of you falling is certainly comedic."

Jamie scoffs, giving her an elbow in her ribs. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I'm gonna have to beg for Ana's mercy. Cussed her out when she set it back right."

Satya raises an eyebrow, amused smirk rising. "I'm sure Angela's public scolding when she sees you will be punishment enough for her."

He groans, reminded of the torture _that_ conversation will be. "Might just hide out in my room for a week 'till it heals. Think ya can help me swing that?"

"I will bring your meals to the workshop and keep a watch in the halls for you, how about that? You know Torbjorn will keep quiet about it."

"'S true, he don't give two shits if my face is black an' blue," he says. "You got a deal, Sat."

Her hand is soft and warm in his. Though it's just for a moment, he lets his walls down. Disables the traps.

He doesn't quite mind being a little vulnerable, not if it's her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: ok time to write a hostile interaction between lucio and satya  
> my brain: no.....we won't be doing that  
> me: understandable have a nice day


	9. my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> your secret is safe with me  
> and if secret were like seeds  
> when i'm lyin' under marble  
> marvel at flowers you'll have made
> 
> no plan // hozier

"Okay, once more." 

Fareeha is surprisingly gentle in her training, in the way she corrects Satya's movements and technique. This surprises Satya, due to Fareeha's military background and her general modus operandi that she had seen of the woman during their few missions together. She always gives off a strict, no nonsense vibe, as if she'd be the type to give harsh criticism of the most inexperienced soldier.

But with Satya she is kind. She is able to communicate simply and aptly what corrections need to made and how Satya needs to move. It helps that Satya has dance experience, understands how to mirror movements and take direction.

They're practicing fending off basic attacks – it's more of an evaluation of Satya's skills than anything, so Fareeha could determine which areas were strong and which ones needed more work. Fareeha's attacks – opened handed jabs, to be fair – are firm but piercing, and she was sure to be bruised tomorrow. But after a while, she begins to get in the rhythm of it.

Dodge, dodge, duck, block, turn and – okay, so she's on the floor now. She had gotten caught off guard by the side sweep Fareeha had done. But the other woman helps her up, both of them huffing and wiping at their brow.

Satya was definitely going to start doing more than just her morning yoga and the occasional jog. Her arms feel like lead weights, and she had nary the strength fight off Fareeha, with her arms built like woven steel. Sweat drips down her forehead, the hot coastal sun already beating down on them. They had started at dawn, but the sun rose quickly and with a vengeance this morning. It's barely seven now, but they had already been at it for hours.

"I think I have to be done for the day," Satya says, still trying to catch her breath. "I still haven't eaten."

Fareeha nods, taking a seat beside her and chugging down a bottle of water. "Breakfast should be starting soon. We can head over there now."

Satya wants to take a shower first, bothered mildly by the layer of sweat and grime coating her, but remembers her promise to Jamie. If she waited to grab breakfast, there might not be enough for her to take him his.

"Sounds good," she replies, sweeping her thick hair up into a semblance of a bun. It wouldn't do for most events, but she's not so concerned with appearance for now. She sits with Fareeha and begins to cut at her breakfast.

She can already see her new tan lines where her shorts ride up on her thighs while she sits. Fareeha has plenty of her own, too, all mismatched in different places. Fareeha sits in just spandex shorts and a sports bra, tan lines crisscrossing with scars on her back, shoulders and abdomen. Satya doesn't have many scars to speak of — not from combat, anyway. A scar on her knee from falling as a child, a blemish on her knuckle from some part of her childhood she can't remember, the subtle vine-like roots that creep out from her prosthetic site.

"So what's the deal with you and that Junker guy?" Fareeha asks, and she tries not to cringe at the absent clinking of silverware. "You seem close."

"We're friends," Satya replies, a smile on her face. "We...fit. We understand each other, we work well together. We have similar interests and abilities. Is that strange?"

"It wouldn't be — _if_ he wasn't a Junker."

Satya frowns. "Why does that affect anything?"

Pharah looks at her, eyebrow cocked. "They're – you know, not like us. Wild. They come from a harsher world, a place where civilization regularly included random, brutal murder."

"And our society does not? What of the murderers roaming the streets?"

"Well—"

"What of the corporate murder that is done to thousands in poverty every day? What of the murder we commit in the name of good? And we get to decide what good even is—"

"Okay, okay, I get it. I was out of line. I'm sorry." Satya imagines this is Fareeha's commander voice: stern, clear, and just a hint of a rumble from somewhere deep in her chest.

There is an uncomfortable silence as they both continue eating quietly. The clicking of their silverware is like gunshots, as she stares blankly at her food while she calms herself down.

"I apologize for getting upset," Satya says after a moment, taking a deep breath. "But Jamie is a good person – Mako, too. They...did what they had to. We all have. They don't deserve the reputation they have. I trust them both with my life."

But she's still angry. She's still seething at the… _insensitivity_ when it comes to Jamie.

She quietly excuses herself after several long, long minutes of awkward silence. She packs up a breakfast for Jamie and heads down to his room.

She's not entirely sure when she became so protective of him. But it's simply unfair the judgement of him — even her own. She feels shameful when she thinks of how she had dismissed him so quickly, on first glance, from merely his appearance.

She wants to tell herself that it is all Vishkar's fault. That Vishkar is the reason she is a judgemental person, that Vishkar is the reason that she is selfish, vain, and unapproachable.

But she knows better. She knows that it is just her. She knows that part of her redemption is to become a better person, one she isn't so ashamed of being.

"Jamie," Satya calls, the door surprisingly sliding open without an answer from Jamie. She wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that she had fallen asleep here last night, or if perhaps Jamie had let Athena know she was allowed in.

He's dead asleep, limbs sprawled out in all directions. He's curled up around the pillow she had slept on last night, arms wrapped around it much like they were around her last night.

She smiles at the thought. Jamie certainly is a cuddler, and she can't say she doesn't enjoy the contact. Growing up without real parental figures and at odds with her only peers left her often wanting for physical affection. She supposes it hasn't bothered her, but she can't resist the warm feeling that fills her when she wakes up to another body wrapped around her.

He's quite cute when he's sleeping, too. He's a twitcher, eyebrows furrowing as he dreams, humming softly as he burrows deeper into the pillow. She sets the plate of food on his desk and takes a gentle seat on the bed to wake him up.

The moment the bed dips with her weight, he shifts to curl around her. His cheek rubs against her thighs, sleepily mumbling, "Soft..."

"Jamie," she murmurs, holding back a smile. She rubs at his back in gentle circles, knowing what happens if he's startled awake. "Jamie, I've brought you breakfast. It's time to wake up."

He grumbles, blearily opening his eyes to peek at her before pulling himself closer to her. His head lays in her lap, cheeks puffed up in a comical pout."'S too earlyyyyy, Sat."

"It's almost eight thirty," she gently chides him, lips curling up.Perfectly reasonable to get up."

Her hands card through his hair, playing with it as he blearily blinks awake. She finds it comforting, his soft hair almost like downy, the gold strands shining in the light as she moves through them. He gives a content hum from deep in his chest, and she can feel it move through her own body.

"Feels nice," he murmurs. A pause, then, "Where'd y' go this mornin'?"

"Training with Fareeha, she's...teaching me how to fight better. Without my projector."

"Missed ya. Woke up without ya and didn't know where you'd gone."

Satya smiles. "You are welcome to join anytime, Jamie. But I usually get up before dawn to go to the gym. I am an early riser."

He groans, shaking his head, nuzzling his face further into her stomach. He's almost like a cat, she thinks.

"Jamie, I'm all sweaty. I probably smell gross."

"Y' smell fine," he mumbles, barely audible. "Sweat's good. Means you're alive."

She can see the muscles of his arms and back relax as she continues to run her hands through his hair. It's nice to see, especially considering how tense he is...well, all the time. Though growing up in a bloodthirsty wasteland would do that to someone, she supposes.

"Jamie?"

"Yeah

"I want you to know that I trust you with my life. And...And that you're the closest friend I have. Thank you, Jamie."

He doesn't say anything, but he holds her a little tighter. That tells her everything she needs to know.

* * *

 

He sits across from Roadhog, sorting through piles of scrap with him. The bits he can use, he gets to take, and Roadie gets to take the bits that were too gnarled to be recycled. It works well for them, and he finds a weird sort of pleasure in finding the good bits. Like his old scrap runs, except it's far less irradiated and he's not worried about getting his throat sliced at any second.

Both Torbjörn and Satya are gone from the workshop. Jamie doesn't know why, but he knows it's nice to have a little time with his best buddy again without hearing that damn dwarf spit a comment under his breath after every other word. It's almost like old times, really.  

"So you're...sleepin' together?" Roadie rumbles, his comically large hands daintily holding a screw as he inspects the threading. "Like, yer fuckin'?"

"Get yer head outta the gutter!" Jamie glares, tossing a nut into the ROADIE pile. "No, she's just...y'know how I got trouble sleepin'. I fall asleep next t' her, wake up the next mornin' with the best sleep of m' life. Can't explain it."

Roadie goes to say something, but it only comes out as a coughing wheeze. Jamie recognizes the sound of the mechanical click as his breathing treatment activates. Angela had made something fancy for him, some fancy name that had gone in one ear and right out the other when she said it, but it activates inside his mask the moment it senses he's having trouble breathing. Roadie's actually been able to talk to him more often cause of it, which he likes. 

Of course, this doesn't keep Jamie from rambling on, as he always has.

"An' y'know, Sat's real fuckin' nice. Teaches me things, real good to be on missions with. Saved my sorry ass back in France, y'know."

"I know," Hog says. "I'll have t' beg her t' leave you behind next time."

"Aw, I know ya love me, Roadie!" He grins, rolling a miniscule cog around in his palm. "But, man, she's...she's a real good friend, Hog."

Jamie doesn't call many people friends. Not really. Hell, Roadie is the first person he's trusted besides himself for as long as he can remember. Their friendship was...well, he can't really say it started organically, but he's come to treasure it. 

So Roadie understands that when he calls someone a friend, it's serious. 

"Good," is all Hog says, and Jamie lights up, a dumb grin to his face as he continues sorting.

They continue to sort in their version of silence for a bit — which means that Jamie babbles on and on and Roadhog listens. The door to the workshops beeps open, and a clacking of heels echoes off of the polished floor.

"Woah, what'cha doin' in a suit, darl?" Jamie asks, raising an eyebrow.

Satya is dressed in a sleek suit, skirt hugging her thick thighs and jacket tailors to the trim cut of her waist. Now, Jamie hates suits but damn if Satya couldn't pull it off.

She sits down at her station and toes her heels off, and even though the layer of her sheer tights he can see the indents the shoes have made into her skin. She huffs, reaching back to shrug off her jacket and drape it gracefully over the back of her chair.

"Winston and I met with a lawyer," she explains, brushing out non-existent wrinkles in her blouse, delicate folds of lace ruffling at her shoulders and collar. "We were trying to go through my Vishkar contract to look for loopholes about my arm. They hold all all of my bank accounts, my personal assets, all of my credit. But I cannot claim anything without giving up my arm, as per my employment contract."

"Well, whaddya find out?"

"Absolutely nothing," she bites, and he can see the tension within her. He's never seen her this upset, not even when they had come face to face with Sanjay. "The contract is air tight."

One of the things he has learned with Satya is that sometimes, saying nothing is better than saying anything. It's an urge he struggles to control, but he knows that right now, there's no way he can help. So he stays quiet, and keeps sorting through scrap. She's overwhelmed and upset, and just wants to lose herself in her work.

So he lets her.

They all work in mostly silence. Satya puts on some light music, stuff that Jamie doesn't care for, but knows that it helps her. He can almost feel Roadhog's quizzical stare, wondering why the fuck he's acting so strange. Roadhog asks as much once they finally leave the workshop to head down to dinner.

"She likes it quiet when she gets riled up," he says. "So I shut up."

"Huh."

"Whassat look for, Roadie?"

"Nuthin'."

* * *

 

Satya doesn't know why it's so hard to sleep tonight.

She thought she could finally get a good night's sleep, away from the med bay and the strange hotel rooms. This almost seems worse than the fitful moments of rest she got in the med bay, her brain refusing to quiet down. She had tried everything, from taking a shower to her herbal tea, to her logic puzzles.

She thinks about the trouble with Vishkar — how she has to sacrifice everything she had just to keep her arm, and even then her possession of it is illegal, they could sue her. But she knows they'd rather rip off her arm with a vice than let her speak in an open court about all the things they have hidden plainly.

She wonders why Sombra had not reported about her to Vishkar. Sanjay had been so surprised to see her, despite her being caught by the hacker on an Overwatch mission just months prior. They know that Sombra operates on her own agenda, regardless of her Talon affiliations but what could be her ploy with this?

Her mind keeps going back to her conversation with Fareeha. They're not like us, she had said. That was what had bothered her the most.

It is not too long ago that people said the same about her when she came to Overwatch, of the whispers among her peers at Vishkar, of the praises from Sanjay.

" _You're not like the others_ ," he had said. " _You're special_."

" _She's not like us_ ," they had said. " _She's weird_."

" _They're not like us. They're wild_."

Jamie makes her smile and feel safe, humors her. He understands her boundaries better than anyone has, and doesn't make it weird like some people do. It frustrates her that people can't see past the Junker persona, can't see beyond what his past has made it. Isn't that what Overwatch is all about, anyway?

She huffs, turning over once more to look at the clock. 2:36 blares at her frustratingly bright in the otherwise dark room, hours after she had initially laid down to sleep.

She gathers herself and decides to head to the common room – if she was going to be awake she wasn't going to do it stuffed up in her room all night. The halls around her are quiet, her gentle footsteps padding through the hall are the only echoes around her. She cuddles up in a corner of the large couched splayed before a wall-to-wall holoscreen and tucks herself into a book.

It's been awhile since she's had a chance to read for pleasure, and it's easier to concentrate in the quiet of the late night. Her book is enjoyable, a few decades old though quite popular in its day, but her eyes hurt despite it all.

"Sat?"

The sudden voice startles her, practically jumping out of her skin. She lays a hand over her chest, heart pounding as she gasps out. "Goodness, Jamie, you scared me."

"Sorry," he mumbles, plopping down on the couch next to her. "Thought ya heard me. Usually do."

"I must have been so absorbed in my reading that I didn't," she replies, setting her tablet down on the coffee table. "What are you doing up so late, anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep. You?" He shrugs, but Satya can see the dark circles blossoming under his eyes — well, that is, the eye that isn't already black and blue from his tumble. He looks miserably tired, eyes red and his shoulders slumping.

"The same, unfortunately," she remarks. "I thought I would finally get a good night's sleep in my own bed, but..."

"'M used to not sleepin' well," Jamie says, popping off his peg, resting his foot on the coffee table and crossing his thigh over it. "But damn, what I wouldn't give for a good 'ol date with a pillow and a bed right now."

She chuckles, allowing herself to lean into him. He's warm, the soft cotton T-shirt he wears smells like his sheets and sleep. Satya knows that despite what everyone thinks about him and Mako, the Junkers are not dirty. They shower regularly, wash their clothes and sheets like everyone else does, even if they always seem to have perpetual stains and seem to leave grimy thumbprints everywhere. But this is true of any hands-on worker who must fiddle with oil and parts and make things fit.

Satya admits to herself that at one point, she found it horrifying too, used to the seamless and pristine luxury of hardlight. But she knows better now.

She knows better about a lot of things now.

She settles into Jamie's side as they talk about nothing at all. She normally hates talking like this, but with him it's easy, it's comfortable, it's enjoyable.

She doesn't know why, but with him a lot of things are easy.

"How is it I'm able to fall asleep so quickly the moment I'm with you?" Satya murmurs, eyes fluttering closed despite her greatest efforts to keep them open.

Jamie chuckles beneath her, his chest rumbling with the sound. His arm wraps around her loosely, his own breathing getting steadier and steadier. She can't help but match it, resisting the urge to hum contentedly.

"The best sleep I've ever gotten is next t' you," he says. "An' I mean that. No exaggeratin' or nothin'."

The sentiment fills her with a strange feeling, and for a moment all she wants to do is curl further into him. She's been having trouble with this for a while now, this sense of...affection and comfort she gets when she's around Jamie. She doesn't know how to place it, how to name it — hell, she's never felt anything quite like this before.

But she finds she doesn't mind at all.

"Hey, Sat?"

"Mmm?"

"We should get t' bed."

Satya hums, her nose buried in the crook of Jamie's neck. He smells good, clean, but like him, too. It's a fresh, masculine smell, and she adores it. She realizes that she doesn't want to leave him, doesn't want to back to her room, alone, to exist with her eyes closed but mind awake. It's strange to her, but she sleeps best with him for some reason. She finds comfort in his arm around her, in the way her hand curls up on his chest.

She doesn't know what this feeling is, but maybe she doesn't have to name it yet.

"Your room, or mine?"

Maybe she can just enjoy it while it lasts.


	10. i think i'm comin' alive with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> waking up next to you every morning  
> how did we get this far?   
> it came without a warning  
> and in the night time you tell me your whole life  
> you and me get too real but all i feel is alright
> 
> now that i found you // carly rae jepson

 

 

The base without Satya and Roadie is _boring_.

Jamie's walked around the base for hours trying to find something to do without his two best pals around. The base seems desolate, several people out on missions, him and few others staying back to hold down the fort. Winston and Ana are taking shifts to be on call for mission communication, stuffing their faces and sleeping when not locked in Athena's server room.

The workshop isn't the same without Satya, his own mutterings and tool clanking far too loud in the echoing room. He can't take the silence in there without Satya's gentle music, or even Torbjörn's constant shuffle as he paces around the room.

He finds himself in the lounge, leaning on the back of the couch where Lúcio and Hana are playing some kind of video game across the huge holo screen. It's entertaining to watch for a moment, bright colors and constant stimuli flashing across the screen, but he loses interest quickly without something to actually do. He drags himself from corner to corner in the lounge, looking for something to do, pulling out all kinds of gadgets and antique board games to try to amuse himself.

"Uh, Rat? What'cha doin'?" 

Jamie's head pops up, an embarrassed grin spreading wide across his cheeks. "'M bored. Need to do somethin' fiddly with m' hands."

Hana cocks an eyebrow and holds up the controller in her hand. "Wanna play?"

"Can ya teach me?"

* * *

 

"Jesse, where are we again?"

The air around them is almost scalding as they walk out of the airport, carting their luggage behind them. As they had descended towards ground, she had seen a sprawling desert city, peppered with high rises and skyscrapers. On the ground, it's not so different. Gravel sprawls where greenery does in other places, cacti, palm trees and mesquites seem to be the main source of natural vegetation.

The most noticeable trait is that it is _blistering_ hot, the air around them dry and warm, sweat already beginning to form under her clothes.

"Phoenix, Arizona, darl'," he says, not clad in his trademark serape for once, just a plain gray T-shirt and jeans. "Temp's supposed t' be up to a hundred an' ten today, so if ya got shorts, I'd put 'em on at the safe house."

"A hundred and ten?" She presses.  "That's insane. It's June."

It occasionally reached that high back home in India, and more regularly in the Iraqi summers when she spent time in Oasis, but it's still remarkable. And sweaty. And terrible.

Supposedly there was something here that's a Talon interest, involving mines and some kind of valuable ore. What it could be, Satya didn't couldn't say. They already have hard light through the cooperation of Vishkar, one of the most formidable substances on the planet — what else can they be after?

This is the thought that pesters her as they travel to their safehouse, which is little more than a dilapidated shack tucked away into a dreary corner of the city. There's not much here other than a few buildings in similar disrepair, miles of desert stretching out past her, only broken up by the occasional desert flora and paths forged into the ground by hovercar exhausts.

McCree kicks on the aged air conditioner as they enter, the practically _ancient_ technology sputtering before whirring to life. The air is dusty and dry, though she supposes at least the heat should cool off after a bit. There's only one large open room, and they all take to dropping their luggage in separate corners and taking a moment to sit.

This is going to be an absolutely awful mission.

* * *

 

Once Jamie learns the controls, what buttons to push and when, the game becomes enrapturing. It's fast-paced, requires his constant attention across the holo-screen, identifying enemies and placing strategies. He loves it, finding himself leaning forward and gasping out breaths he didn't realize he was holding.

He plays for hours, even after Hana and Lúcio have long tapped out. He plays long after Athena automatically dims the lights, until he finally can no longer ignore his protesting bladder and growling stomach.

When he finally settles into bed, he feels empty.

At first, he thinks it's just because he's spent a whole day hyperfocusing, feeling like only ten minutes had passed when it was really several hours, the sun having set long ago.

But he quickly realizes it's because Satya isn't there.

They had made it something of a routine, the two of them. After dinner, they would meet in the workshop to finish up their projects before the night was over, set up their tools for the next day, or scrawl out notes their sleep-addled brains would forget over the course of the night. They would follow one another back to one room or the other, chatting about their day all the while.

It was a way to decompress, to evaluate all the tiny, insignificant details of the day he so often took for granted. He's not sure if it's her mere presence or the newly established routine that helped him sleep so soundly now, but more often than not he finds himself drifting off far earlier than he means to.

He would wake to the early morning light, tendrils of the rising sun painting themselves across the sky. Satya would stir in his arms, sometimes to cuddle deeper into him, or sometimes to scroll on her phone for bit before she was ready to head out to her own morning routine.

Jamie's never been a morning person, but he finds himself waking up far earlier than normal since this routine has established itself. He finds himself lonely without her in the bed, and rather than roll around for hours in a fitful sleep, he's just started to get up. 

He finds himself in this same predicament now. Eyes closed, but mind awake. He can't stop his brain from following the constant chatter in his head, stream of consciousness reminding him of all the things he could be doing, of all the things his wired neurons are ready to accomplish. His bed feels empty without Satya in it, his mind racing without their bedtime conversations. Something in his chest aches, though he doesn't know quite how to describe it other than he misses her.

Which is silly, right? This is the nature of their job, of being an Overwatch agent. They can't expect to be together all the time, and she's only been gone a day! With that thought, he realizes he's been up for twenty-four hours, having gotten up early with her to see her off.

He groans, kicking his legs into the mattress, frustrated. His eyes are tired, muscles ready to relax and sink into sleep but his _stupid brain_.

He misses Satya.

Fuck.

* * *

 

Satya finds herself frustratingly awake.

It doesn't help that it is devastatingly hot, even with the air conditioner blasting and the slight cool that had dropped once night had fallen. It certainly isn't a plus that she is stuffed into a cramped, almost decaying safehouse coated in dust and grime, with McCree and Roadhog snoring in their own corners of the room.

But despite all of this, the real reason she can't sleep is because she's not sleeping next to Jamie.

Which is silly, she thinks. She should be able to sleep without a warm body next to her, although Jamie is much more than a warm body. He is…comforting, and kind, and somehow has become such a part of her daily routine that she finds herself missing him quite terribly.

She braids and unbraids her hair over and over again, frustrated by the droplets of sweat that continue to roll down her scalp and make her skin stick to itself. She has sat here in the dark for at least an hour now, the heat finally dissipating as the moon rises outside. She can see the light of it as it rises through the crack in the curtains, bright with the fullness of it.

She's been up for over a day now, between the flight and the investigation, and although she's tired she finds her mind unable to quiet itself. She misses Jamie's rambling before bed, misses the way he gets distracted and grins big when she gently reminds him of where he had left off.

Satya thinks about how silly it was that she was so worried at first that someone would find out they were sleeping together, about the _rumors_ that might start around them. She had to stop herself, had to remind herself that she isn't at Vishkar anymore. Even if there were rumors, it wouldn't be anything malicious, and it's not like they're a couple _anyway,_ though she can see how it might look that way.

Besides, it's not like that would ever happen anyway, she tells herself. She stops for a moment at that thought — why? It's not like Jamie isn't all of things she looks for in a partner: compassionate, patient, with a good sense of humor. He takes the time to understand her, and he _is_ quite good looking —

Satya finds herself interrupted from this particular train of thought by her phone lighting up besides her from a notification. She peers at it curiously for a moment, before she melts into a smile.

 _Jamie_.

 **Jamie** : ughhh when do ya come back again  
 **Satya** : Not sure. Several days, at least.  
 **Satya** : Winston wants us to investigate this interest as thoroughly as we're able.  
 **Jamie** : this place sucks without ya here  
 **Jamie** : ended up playin games with hana and lulu for the better part of the day  
 **Satya** : Lulu? You mean Lúcio?  
 **Jamie** : yeah  
 **Satya** : Somehow, you still find ways to surprise me every day, Jamie.  
 **Jamie** : >:?  
 **Satya** : It's a good thing.  
 **Jamie** : oh  
 **Jamie** : well alright then  
 **Jamie** : wait a minute what the hell are you doing up  
 **Satya** : I could ask you the same thing.  
 **Jamie** : can't sleep  
 **Satya** : I'm having the same predicament, actually.  
 **Jamie** : yeah but youre on a mission! been goin all day probly!  
 **Satya** : Well, yes…  
 **Jamie:** i sense a but  
 **Satya** : But I seem to find myself missing you.  
 **Jamie** : awww darl  
 **Jamie** : how cute  
 **Satya** : Oh yes, laugh it up.  
 **Jamie** : miss ya too to be honest  
 **Jamie** : beds not quite the same  
 **Satya** : To repeat a sentiment: How cute.  
 **Satya** : It's so strange how quickly we seem to have developed this dependence.  
 **Jamie** : not so strange really  
 **Satya** : How so?  
 **Jamie** : when we sleep together we sleep better  
 **Jamie** : s like that uhhhhh the dog thing  
 **Satya** : …The dog thing…  
 **Jamie** : yknow the dog thing  
 **Jamie** : with the bells and the food  
 **Satya** : Oh, the Pavlovian Response?  
 **Jamie** : yeah that one  
 **Satya** : I…don't think that's correct.  
 **Satya** : If it was a Pavlovian response, the moment we were in bed together we'd get sleepy.  
 **Satya** : Which would soon develop into the moment we were together in any setting we'd get sleepy.  
 **Jamie** : listen i dunno shit about shit and you know that  
 **Satya** : I commend your efforts.    
 **Jamie** : finally gettin the respect i deserve round here  
 **Satya** : Oh, we are but your humble servants King Jamison.  
 **Jamie** : ew you used my government name  
 **Satya** : Do you not like Jamison? My apologies.  
 **Jamie** : s not that its just way too fancy for me  
 **Jamie** : cmon my moniker is junkrat  
 **Satya** : I think it suits you just fine, though I will admit a preference to Jamie.  
 **Jamie** : oh?  
 **Jamie** : tell me more  
 **Satya** : Oh. I just.  
 **Satya** : I don't know  
 **Satya** : It just sounds nice.  
 **Satya** : Simple, clean.  
 **Jamie** : oh cmon that’s not an answer!  
 **Satya** : Yes it is.  
 **Jamie** : nuh uh  
 **Satya** : Uh huh.  
 **Jamie** : its not and ya know it  
 **Satya** : I don't know!  
 **Satya** : The only answer I have sounds…scandalous though I don't mean it that way.  
 **Jamie** : oh well now i gotta know  
 **Satya** : I like the way it feels in my mouth.  
 **Jamie** : kay i see why ya didnt wanna say it  
 **Jamie** : but its just one a your things innit  
 **Satya** : My things?  
 **Jamie** : uh fuck forgot the name  
 **Jamie** : feel good things  
 **Satya** : Oh, my stims?  
 **Satya** : Yes, it is. I have quite a few.  
 **Jamie** : whatre some others?  
 **Jamie** : no reason just curious  
 **Satya** : My moniker, for one. Symmetra is very satisfying to say.  
 **Satya** : I don't believe I have any others in English, unfortunately.  
 **Jamie** : well that’s alright  
 **Jamie** : thx for sharin anyway  
 **Satya** : I never seem to quite mind with you.  
 **Jamie** : yeah ditto here love   
 **Satya** : I'm glad you ended up messaging me. As cheesy as it sounds, it makes me miss you a little less.  
 **Jamie** : yeah well youre not allowed to go on long missions like this without me anymore  
 **Jamie** : im gonna have a talk with the monkey  
 **Jamie** : set things straight  
 **Jamie** : cant expect us to function like this  
 **Satya** : I eagerly await the aftermath of that conversation.  
 **Jamie** : hey sat  
 **Satya** : Yes, Jamie?  
 **Jamie** : i miss ya too  
 **Satya** : It's not quite the same, is it?  
 **Jamie** : nah  
 **Jamie** : this did help though  
 **Jamie** : think i might finally be able to crash out  
 **Satya** : Good!  
 **Satya** : I should try as well, we'll be up early tomorrow, no doubt.  
 **Satya** : Good night, Jamie.  
 **Jamie** : gnight sat 

She can't help but smile as she falls asleep, phone clutched in her hand.

* * *

 

 _At least it's cool in here_ , she remarks to herself, though upset as she is. 

Her and Roadhog have been tasked with wandering around the mall to seem inconspicuous while McCree meets with their contact. Of course, as inconspicuous as they could be with a man like Roadhog besides her, large and looming as he is. She tries not to notice the attention, though she must on some level for preservation.

"Wonder what Rat's up to," Roadhog mumbles, his voice raspy and deep.

Satya enjoys the timbre of it, she thinks, visualizing the waves from his gravelly vibrato in the air. She also just enjoys talking to Roadhog regardless. He's quite a good conversationalist, doesn't bother saying more than necessary, something she appreciates in most people. He's quite funny, too — he's one of the few people who can deliver a deadpan punchline and have her giggling in fits.

"He's bored out of his mind," she replies with a small smile. "I talked to him last night. He played games with Hana and Lúcio all day."

"You talked t' him? When?"

"We were having a hard time sleeping last night," she remarks in what she hopes is a casual manner, idly sifting through fine garments. "We texted for a bit until we felt tired enough to sleep. Just checking in, is all."

There's a still silence, and she tries not to think about the salespeople nervously eyeing the pair from across the sales floor. She thumbs through blazer after blazer, hoping to have a few new business formal outfits to choose from with the Vishkar logo, but none of these are quite her style. Either too frilly or too masculine. She huffs, turning on her heel to peruse lazily throughout more of the store.

"He musta missed ya."

Satya smiles, eyes drifting as she reminisces. "I miss him as well. He has rooted his way quite deeply into my heart."

There's another silence as she examines herself in the mirror with a pair of slacks pressed to her front, tilting her head back and forth to see if she likes them. She can eye Roadhog towering behind her, the blank eyes of his mask glossy in the overhead fluorescents.

"He really likes you, y'know."

Although Satya knows this, the fact that it is being muttered by Roadhog, of all people, stops her in her tracks for some reason.

"Oh?" She breathes, as casually as possible.

"Doesn't shut up about ya. Never heard him talk like that 'bout someone before."

That sentiment in particular warms her heart, and she smiles. She opens her mouth to reply but the comms crackle to life in her ear and she stays silent instead.

" _Meet back at the truck in fifteen minutes_ ," is all McCree says.

"Understood," Satya murmurs as casually as possible into her comm, still painfully aware of the eyes watching them. She continues to pick at the garments with high price tags, occasionally asking for Roadhog's opinion, mostly out of preservation to keep the act up.

He plays the role well, too.

"Two different saturations," he says, shaking his head at a blazer and blouse combo. "Don't fit quite right."

In the end, Satya manages a few new pieces she can tuck neatly into her suitcase to take home, free of any Vishkar logo and the lingering guilt associated with it. The sales associates had practically breathed a  collective sigh of relief when they finally left, a bag in tow. Satya wonders if they must have thought they were there to rob them or something — though, considering Deadlock's firm grip on the city, it probably wouldn't be the first time.

"I must admit, Roadhog," she says as they cross the burning asphalt parking lot to the car, "I didn't know you had such an eye for colors."

"Lived off th' land for a while," he replies. "Deadly if ya don't know the diff'rence in the Bush."

"There's still much to learn about you, I see," she says, smiling, gingerly hopping into the cab of the truck where McCree is already waiting.

The cab is silent except for the rustle as they pull out, McCree's sharp eyes scanning the road watching beneath dark sunglasses.

"Alright," he says once they're out of the parking lot, the car shifting into autopilot mode to take them on a long, convoluted route back to the safe house. "I've got good news and bad news...and even worse news. Which d'ya want first?"

Satya pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers, giving a heavy sigh. "Good news."

"It's exactly what I expected was goin' on, so we're somewhat prepared."

"And the bad news?"

"It's Deadlock."

Satya frowns as she remembers the briefing about Deadlock before they had left. McCree's old gang, powerful and numerous in the American Southwest, led by a cutthroat woman who has an age old vendetta against Jesse.

 _Well, just perfect_.

"I'm hesitant to ask what the even worse news is."

McCree sighs, hands itching in his pockets and she can tell he's craving a smoke. He opts instead to run his hands through his hair, slumping back in his seat. "I've got no damn clue what the link is between them and Talon. But whatever the hell it is, it's not good."

Nothing about this is good, she corrects in her mind. This entire mission is a migraine and a half, and nothing has gone right, even in the barely twenty-four hours since they've set foot in America. She wants to scream, she wants to pull her hair out and hop on a flight straight to Gibraltar.

But all she does is close her eyes, take a deep breath and think about the calm she'll feel when she finally gets home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please know I will probably never do this chat format again because it’s a bitch and a half to format but also it gives me violent flashbacks to my homestuck days and I don't want that for any of us


	11. and all my stumbling phrases never amounted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and the heart is hard to translate  
> it has a language of its own  
> it talks in tongues and quiet sighs  
> in prayers and proclamations
> 
> all this and heaven too // florence + the machine

 

The sun is high in the sky, beating down on the trio as they traverse along the well-trodden footpaths near the mines. The desert foothills are dusty, heat pounding on her skin as they trudge together through the rocky terrain. She had dressed light on purpose, knowing well enough through the several weeks they had spent in this hell of a city, though she has already sweat through her clothes, surely.  

Satya and McCree had both turned several shades darker over the course of the mission, new expanses of freckles spattering across Jesse's cheeks every day. The uneven tan lines Satya was receiving every day is driving her crazy, and she knows she'll have to spend some time sunbathing back at the base just to even it all out again. Though sweat drips in rivulets down Roadhog's back, he doesn't seem particularly perturbed by it at all.

She's thankful for her hardlight visor that shades her eyes from the bright sun, as she watches the Deadlock guard shift rotations from a distance. They were waiting for the shipment that was supposed to come along this afternoon. It was one of the few pieces of intel that had managed to gather throughout this entire debacle of a mission. She had never quite been fond of labeling anything she had been in negatively, always taught to skew the odds in her favor, but there was no way to register this mission as anything but a failure.

They still hadn't been able to ascertain what exactly the "shipment" was, nor Talon's interest or investment in Deadlock. The only people involved in the gang were "veteran members" according to Jesse, and were good at keeping their mouth shut.

Which is why they're here now, huddled behind jagged rocks and burning in the heat of the sun. She can barely sit, the ground practically sizzling underneath her, and she's afraid to even touch it with her prosthetic for fear of shorting it out. She has cloaked them all in a hard light shield to help with it, but it is still uncomfortably warm beneath her.

"Duck," Jesse whispers, and they all tuck their heads to watch a huge armored truck zip through the desert towards the entrance to the mine below them. Two Deadlock members hang off the sides of it, unmoving even when the car bounces over boulders and turns hard around sharp corners.

"They're huge," Jesse murmurs to himself, shaking his head. "Fuckin' behemoth. What are they feedin' 'em?"

"What's our plan?" Satya asks. "We can't just barge in there."

For a moment, Roadhog and Jesse turn to look at each other, then back at her.

"Oh no—"

So they barge in there.

It's easy enough to incapacitate the guards. One charge from her photon gun is enough to put them in a nice, cozy sleep for the next twelve hours or so. There are plenty of corridors and nooks to hide in the mine, she finds, though it doesn't stop the nervous adrenaline from making her heart thump painfully in her chest. She hates missions like this, despises them, and when this is all over she's going to prattle Jesse's ear off about how irresponsible and dangerous this is.

Her brain is working on overdrive, picking up every insignificant noise and shadow thrown in the dim lamplight of the tunnels. Her mind is going to be so exhausted when this is over, she's going to need a long session at the spa to mentally rejuvenate herself. How they manage to continue to sneak deeper and deeper into the tunnels without being caught is beyond her. Unintelligible voices are thrown about throughout the corridors, echoing off the rocky walls. But they finally spot the armored vehicle, pulled into a dark alcove, scattered bedrolls lying about in the dirt, in front of a flickering heating lamp.

Jesse immediately scurries over, and Satya wants to scream and throttle him. She can't even whisper-yell at him, too worried her voice will project too well in the halls. When she's checked that the coast is clear, they follow after him.

He's already got the tarp up, rifling as quietly as he can through what look like canvas bags, before he finally gets one unrolled. It's a rifle bag, the gun strapped inside shiny and black, glistening with new tech, super-powered scopes and a hell of a lot of firepower.

"Are they all guns?" she whispers, trying to feel the bulky stocks through the rough fabric. "What do they need this much artillery for?"

"Whatever it is, it's not good," Jesse replies, eyebrows furrowed.

As he continues to inspect the gun, pulling out more bags to check if they're different rifles or more of the same, Satya gets a sinking feeling in her stomach. This feels far too easy, far too simple. There's no way they should have been able to get this far in the mines without being spotted.

"Jesse," Satya whispers, trying not to become overwhelmed by her adrenaline-fueled, hyper vigilant senses. "I think this might be a trap."

Jesse opens his mouth to reply, but before he has a chance, a low chuckle echoes through the open chamber. Satya whips her head around quickly to the source of the voice, though it's hard to tell from the way the sound bounces off the walls.

"Well, well, well," a sultry voice says, a languid woman walking out of the shadows. "Never thought I'd see your face 'round here again, McCree."

She's flanked by several men sporting bandanas and vests with the Deadlock insignia, a hulking omnic towering behind her. She wears her smirk like a mask, barely contained anger simmering behind her eyes.

"Well Ashe, long time no see."

If he's surprised, Jesse doesn't show it.

"Not nearly long enough," she snarls, rifle ammunition cracking into place. "Better tell me what gave you the balls to show your ugly mug on my turf quick, before I lose my patience."

She can hear Sanjay now, angry but smug voice in her ear: _You idiot_.

For once, she has to agree with him.

McCree knows Deadlock, and clearly this Ashe woman, whoever she is. He saunters towards her, hands up and free of his revolver. "Heard Talon had somethin' interestin' in these mines. Never thought'd be you, or guns."

"Well, you never were the sharpest knife in the drawer," she drawls, sharp eyes narrowing at him, rifle still pointed firmly at his chest. "Nice to see that much hasn't changed."

"Now, we're still ol' friends, ain't we?"

Satya gasps as a shot rings out, heart pounding as she realizes Ashe had shot at the ceiling above him. The sound of falling debris echoes as dirt trickles onto his hat, pooling in the brim.

"Jesse McCree, I'd give anything to put a bullet in your skull. But I think my new friends at Talon have much better uses for you. Boys, grab 'im."

Jesse visibly sighs, looking up at Ashe from under his brim. "Aw, that's too bad, sugar."

Six of his revolver shots rings out in the blink of an eye, and he's rolled back behind their cover before Satya can even breathe. She can't tell what's louder, the simultaneous groan and shuffle of six dying men falling to the ground, or Ashe's enraged scream.

" _BOB, do somethin'!"_

The gunfire is deafening in the close quarters, the sound echoing over and over, overlapping. Satya has to grit her teeth and get over it as they all duck and roll to hide behind the car. Her ankle is sprained, too, pain shooting up her leg though she knows she can run on it if she needs to.

"Why did you let us walk into this trap?" Satya practically yells at Jesse, covering her ears to muffle the omnic's bursting gunfire. The bullets shudder the car they hide behind, which doesn't make her feel much better on the matter.

"Not the time!" he shouts, before glancing down to her ankle. "You okay?"

"I'll live," she replies, gritting her teeth. She pulls the two of them close to her. "I have a plan, but we'll need to run quickly and I don't think I can do that on my own. Can one of you carry me?"

"I can," Roadhog grumbles immediately. "Tell me what to do."

Satya sets her jaw and fires her photon gun at the ceiling above them, ignoring Jesse's frantic cries and Ashe's smug laughter. "I need you to shoot your scrap gun where the rocks charred from my projector."

"You're gonna bring the whole damn mine down on us!" Jesse protests.

"Yes," she replies, giving him a smug smile of her own. "That's the point. We'll be bringing it down on them, too."

Jesse searches for a moment for something to sigh, before sighing and finally lighting the cigar he's been itching for all day. Satya's nose wrinkles at the sharp, acrid smell but she says nothing. He shoots better with nicotine in him. "You gonna get us out of here intact, right?"

"More or less. You ready?"

Roadhog doesn't wait for Jesse's reply, but scoops Satya by the waist and shoots three heavy shots exactly where she had indicated. There is a rumble all around them and the gunfire ceases as dirt and rubble shift. They take off the moment a hunk of rock drops into the ground with a heavy thud, Roadhog practically slinging her onto his back.

" _McCree_!" They hear Ashe's cracked voice shouting, and she has never heard someone so angry in her life before. " _I'm gonna fucking ruin you!"_

She has to act fast so that they don't get crushed by rubble, bits of dirt and rock bouncing off of her visor. She pulls shield after shield above them, thankfully not needing them to be very strong. She weaves them over and over, trying not to think about the sound of falling rubble that roars behind her, the shields lasting just long enough for them to get under the next one.

She wants to cry when she sees the light of day, but she has to keep focusing. Her arms ache, protesting at her with every pull of her muscles. With a final cry of anger and relief, she forms the last shield and holds it up by pure willpower alone to get them out of the collapsing mine. She has no idea what happened to the Deadlock members that they had left behind, and quite frankly, she doesn't care right now.

She opens up a teleporter with the last of her strength. "It'll only last for a minute, get in."

Roadhog thankfully carries her through to the adjoining teleporter in the safehouse, the dizzying motion sickness of teleportation having long lost its hold on her. She plops onto her nest of blankets immediately, arms laying by her side like dead weight, muscles practically buzzing from strain. The men shortly follow her, lying down with their backs flat to the cool floor, sweat practically sealing their skin to the concrete beneath them.

"That—blew," Roadhog wheezes, chest rising heavy with each breath. A low mechanical whirring clicks to life under his mask, his breathing growing deeper and steadier. "Th' fuck, McCree."

"Ashe is dangerous as hell," the man in question retorts. "Do you have room to talk, practically fucking burying us alive?"

"I had a plan to get us out of there," Satya snaps back. "What was your plan? Oh, that's right, you didn't deign to tell us, instead letting us walk in blindly to a situation we were completely unprepared for!"

"Your brains were prepared enough—"

"I shouldn't have had to do any of that! You mong—"

" ** _Enough_** ," Roadhog says, voice deep and louder than she's ever heard him speak before. It's a simple command, and he didn't yell in any way but managed to make himself more assertive than she's ever managed to be in her life. "Be quiet for a fuckin' minute."

There is an awkward, tension filled silence as they all continue to breathe, the air conditioner rhythmically whirring behind her. She feels blood slowly returning back to her tired muscles, the sweat cooling on her brow. 

"We should call Winston," she murmurs in the silence. "Let him know to set us up with a flight back home."

Jesse shuffles as he gets up, pulling another cigar from his pocket and fumbling for a lighter that lay on a table. "I'll do it. Need a smoke anyway."

The door closes behind him, a brief rush of hot air and then it is quiet again.

Now that the adrenaline is finally fading from her body, she can take note of what hurts. Her arms and shoulders will be incredibly sore tomorrow, and she likely has a bruise on her ribs from Roadhog grabbing her, but her ankle pulses sharply with her heartbeat.

"Would you mind grabbing me an ice pack from the med kit, Roadhog?" Satya asks, gingerly touching the swelling flesh of her ankle. "I sprained my ankle back in the mines."

He does so wordlessly, shaking it vigorously until it is freezing to the touch. It's welcome in the heat, though the shock of the cold hurts for just a moment.

"Mako."

She pauses. "I'm sorry?"

"Y' can call me Mako."

"Oh," she replies, looking back down at her legs. She's covered in dirt and grime, scratches from falling rubble peppering the skin of her thighs and calves. "Is telling me your name a...special custom for Junkers?"

"Means we trust ya. Jamie told ya his a long time ago, didn't he?"

"Yes," she replies, and she can't help the smile across her face. "I suppose I didn't...appreciate it well enough at the time. I'll have to amend that when we get back."

"Y'like him a lot, huh?"

Satya stops at this, looking up at him with furrowed brows. "Well, yes. He's a wonderful friend. He's one of the few people who made me feel welcome here, as unlikely as it maybe seemed at first."

She hears an audible huff from Mako, something that seems almost silly coming from a figure as intimidating as he is. Despite that she knows that in reality, he's like a teddy bear.

"Not like that."

"I'm...not sure what you mean."

"C'mon," his gruff voice says, taking a seat next to her again. "Y'like him more than as a friend."

Satya blinks at Mako, mouth practically gaping at him. Even with the mask on, she can see his dark eyes staring at her underneath the goggles, warm and intense. She stutters out nonsense, sounds vomiting from her mouth before he thankfully begins to talk again. 

"Y' sleep t'gether, y' spend all damn day t'gether, y've been talking to him or about him non-stop this entire mission."

Satya has to stop for a moment, and she feels like her breath is caught in her throat and she is about to suffocate. That can't be true, can it?—but she knows that every word Mako's said is true.

Jamie does consume her thoughts. The entire time she's been here on this mission, she can't stop thinking about going back to base and having lunch with him, regaling him with the mission stories and hearing about what he's been up to. She misses his company, his little habits. She misses the way he taps his peg to the ground when he was deep in thought, his incomprehensible mutterings as he fiddles with whatever he's working on.

She thinks deeper, thinks about the way she craves his touch. Both consciously and not, some days she will wake up curled in his arms, and cuddles deeper into his warmth. She misses the feeling of his warm breath on her neck as he sleeps.

And...and maybe he's attractive, but that hardly means anything. She can find anyone attractive, but that doesn't mean she's... So what, he has adorable freckles and the way he smiles at her makes her chest fill with warmth. Friends can think that about friends, too, right? Sure, she's had a few fleeting thoughts about kissing him, had his face flash through her mind while she's masturbating, but—

Oh.

 _Oh._  

"Oh," she breathes, eyes blankly staring at the wall in front of her. "Oh my."

"'M gonna leave y'alone t' think," Mako says, patting her shoulder as he clambers to his feet. "Gonna go get some food fer us."

Then, she is left alone.

She pulls her pillow from beneath her back, presses her face into it, takes a deep breath and screams.

* * *

 

Jamie is practically buzzing.

Roadie and Satya are due back on base any minute now. Sure, he'd still have to wait for them to finish debriefing with the monkey, but he'd finally have some damn entertainment around here! They'd been gone almost a month, and had left him all by his lonesome.

He'd had a few texts between him and Roadie, sure, and him and Satya chatted almost every night. But it's not the same as having them there, and he's ready to get a good nights' sleep finally, with Satya back.

He's slept like shit. He misses the way her hair smells and what it's like to actually talk to her for most of the day.

The experience has given him an opportunity to make friends with other people around the base, so he can't say it's all been bad. He started playing games with Hana and Lucio, the two of them teaching him about different kinds and helping him figure out what kinds he likes. He even had gone out to the city with them to go shopping, and he can't say he doesn't appreciate the friendship.

But man, he's excited to have his two favorite people back.

Fareeha finally pulls in with the trio in tow, all of them looking absolutely knackered. Satya looks the worst of all, dark bags hanging under her tired, red eyes. They had clearly seen some sun, skin warm and several shades darker, and he thinks that Roadie's hair had lightened up a few notches, too.

"Mates!" Jamie cries with a big grin, hobbling over to them and pulling them both in for a hug by the neck. "Aw, did I sure miss my two best mates!"

It's an awkward hug, sure, Hog towering above him, unmoving and mountainous compared to tiny Satya, who had practically fallen into him when he pulled her off balance.

"I missed you, too," Satya says with a laugh, though it sounds off. Not quite right.

Her eyes aren't right either, won't meet his like she usually will. He wonders if maybe she's overwhelmed, and lets her off. She gives him an exhausted, sympathetic glance.

"I'll come by after I take some time to settle in," she assures quietly, before shuffling off in the direction of the briefing room.

He shrugs it off, understanding she needs some time to herself after what must have been an stressful trip back. "So, how was th' mission? Didn't expect y' back so soon! But man, am I gla—"

"Ya lied t' me."

Hog's voice is rough, and even though he has his trademark mask pulled over, Jamie can tell he's frowning at him.

Jamie perks an eyebrow. "Bout what, mate?"

"Y' said y' weren't fuckin' Sym, and y'are."

Jamie looks at him bewildered. He's glad everyone else has retreated out of the vehicle bay, since this isn't a conversation that would sound good to an audience. "We’re really not though!"

"She said y'were rootin'."

He's so fucking confused. Why on earth would Satya lie about that? They definitely aren't having sex, and why would she tell Roadie of all people? Something's not right here, though he can't quite figure out what it is.

"Roadie, y'know if that happened I woulda been braggin' 'bout it to ya right quick, yeah?"

"I'll peel yer face off for lyin' t' me again, Rat." It's silent for a moment, before Roadhog simply nods and walks away. "Gotta report t' the boss."

"Wait! Roadie! What the fuck'd she say? _Roadie_!"

* * *

 

Satya feels like she is walking through a haze. 

She had stumbled through giving her report, hadn't even fought much too hard about how she felt about Jesse bringing them into a trap without communicating, though she luckily didn't have to. He had even asked her if she was okay on their way out, and she just shrugged him off and went straight to her room.

She needs to think. She needs to...completely re-evaluate... _everything_.

She allows herself to sink into a warm bath, soap suds piling up around her with the comforting scent of jasmine and honey. She has a bio-emitter glowing on the tile next to her to help with her ankle, doubly functioning as dim lighting. The warm water feels wonderful, relaxing all her muscles and pulling out all of the grime she was unable to scrub off herself while out West.

She feels bad for practically shucking Jamie off of her when she got back to the base. She wonders if he could tell that something was wrong or if he thought that she was just tired.

She is, to be fair. She's absolutely exhausted, hasn't been able to sleep since she came to her realization. Even with Mako and Jesse snoring up a storm next to her on the plane, she was wide awake, ramrod straight in her seat, sipping delicately on a ginger ale to try to calm her nervous stomach.

Satya doesn't know how she feels about him, or at the very least how to articulate it. She thinks about this as she sinks deeper into the water, taking deep breaths and allowing herself to feel the water relaxing her sore muscles.

She likes him, a lot. She knows that. She wants to be near him, enjoys talking to him. He's...attractive, sure – but more importantly, he makes her laugh, he knows how to help her decompress when she's overwhelmed, and will tell people off who try to push her too hard when she's like that. He respects her, cares for her, even with everything that Sanjay had deemed made her broken. He doesn't see her as a flaw, if anything it makes her unique in his eyes and—

Oh. She really does like Jamie.

"This is too much," she murmurs to herself, dipping her hair back into the sweetly scented water.

Satya's never been good at determining how other people feel. She can't read the social cues and body language like everyone else can, despite how hard she's tried to teach herself. She can teach herself all the textbook qualifiers: body facing, muscle tension, eye contact – but none of it means anything to her out of a purely professional setting. She doesn't think about it in her day-to-day, doesn't notice it, because if she did, she would be exhausted and anxiety-ridden 24/7.

How does he feel about her? She can't say. She can't even guess. She wants to say that perhaps he feels the same way, with the way he murmurs in his sleep and pulls her closer when she shifts in the night. With the way his face lights up when he sees her but — but she's not sure. She could be projecting. She could be completely lying to herself.

She's never felt this anxious before in her life.

And gods, how could she face him now? How could she crawl into his bed at night and act like it wasn't a big deal?

Would he think she's taking advantage of him, when he finds out? Would he find her disgusting, for having ulterior feelings for him and sleeping in his bed anyway?

Satya curses to herself, wondering what excuse she'll have to come up with. None of them will be good, and she cannot think of one that won't hurt his feelings.

_I just need more time to come up with a proper excuse..._

It's not like she can just say she fell asleep in her own room, because he'd just come in. He has her access code, Athena knows he is allowed in any time she's here. She can't say she doesn't want to – ugh, nothing sounds good.

Then she has an idea, and she groans.

_It's the only way...but gods, at what cost?_

* * *

"Satya, I really don't really see any reason for you to stay in the medical bay," Angela tells her, cocking a perfect blonde brow at her. "Your ankle is actually almost healed up from the bio-emitter aside from probably a little tenderness, and you have no other injuries or even...concerns that would really merit staying here."

Satya sits uncomfortably, trying not to visibly sigh. "I just—it's _complicated_ , Angela."

The older woman gives her a weary smile and places her clipboard with Satya's file down to look her more closely. "I'm sure whatever it is you're running away from isn't as scary as you think it is."

She blinks up suddenly, feeling a flush growing under her cheeks, embarrassed. Angela had read her far too easily, and she doesn't know how comfortable she is with that.

"It's not that it's scary, it's just that I—" she huffs, hands itching as if she can pull the words out of thin air like with her hard light. "I need more time to find the words, is all."

But Angela shakes her head.  She gains a faraway look in her eyes, staring through the window out at the sun setting over the cliffside. "I cannot tell you how much I have missed out on because I simply needed more time." She turns to Satya again, a sparkle in her eyes. "I won't let you do the same. Go face it. You'll be a better woman for it."

"Is that your personal opinion or the professional one?" Satya mumbles under her breath.

But still, she gets up and leaves. As much as she might be unhappy with the conversation, she knows Angela is right.

_Damn it._

Her heart thuds in her chest as she walks down the corridor to Jamie's room. She doesn't want to think about what she will say, about what his reaction will be. She'll just...say what she needs to when the time comes. It'll end up perfect and she won't be embarrassed at all. That works in movies, right? 

Satya takes a deep breath as she looks at the outside of Jamie's door. The shiny metal surface is mottled by grimy smudges and fingerprints, and what seemed to be faces drawn. She knows it's Jamie's handiwork, the same goofy faces adorning his bomb and grenades, and her mouth quirks up in a smile.

The door whooshes open before her, where Jamie is sprawled out on the floor, eyes staring intently onto a brightly lit screen adorned with cutesy stickers.

"You've really gotten hooked on Hana's games, hmm?"

Jamie jolts up, surprised, as though he hadn't heard her come in — which is entirely possible, she rationalizes. He can shut everything else out quite well when he is hyperfocusing, especially a sound as soft as the door opening. He scrambles clumsily up off the floor to pull her into a bone-crushing hug.

For the first time, Satya becomes vividly aware of…a lot of things that she had never really taken into consideration before.

He smells good, like spice and firewood and distinctly masculine musk. After almost a month away, the smell of him and his sheets is so comforting she almost feels herself relax entirely, despite the situation at hand. He's also…tall. Of course she's always been aware he's as long as a post, it's different now. Her head tucks perfectly under his chin, her arms wrapping comfortably around his chest, resting on the hipbones that jut out.

_Keep cool, Satya._

"Missed ya," he breathes into her hair, and takes a long inhale, as if he is reminding himself of her scent, too. She has to physically bite her cheek so she doesn't let out a satisfied hum. 

"I missed you as well," she's able to choke out, resisting the urge to clutch tighter at him.

He pulls back, brows furrowed. "Somethin' wrong?"

_Shit._

"No," she replies cooly. "Why?"

"Seem off. Tense. Overwhelmed?"

Satya has never been the lovestruck type, or even a romantic. She learned very quickly that life is harsh, and she can only succeed through hard work. She has never been the type to let things like this affect her, though she's taken a lover or a partner here or there. She can think of how she's enjoyed a partner's smell, or the feel of their skin, the comfort she finds in being held.

But none of those amount to the pure gravitational pull she feels towards Jamie in this moment. How can he read her so easily, as if it is second nature to him? This little gesture puts her at ease, helps the anxiety in her heart settle just the slightest.

She smiles at him tiredly, consciously focusing on relaxing her body. "I'm exhausted, to be honest with you."

He laughs, taking a step back and gesturing grandly to the bed with an over-the-top sweeping motion, which pulls a small chuckle out of her. "Your throne awaits."

They lay in bed and talk. Despite the fact that she really is, truly exhausted, she finds she cannot stop the conversation. Perhaps it's an unconscious way to alleviate her anxiety for the moment, or her true desire to get to talk with him again. She's not sure.

He tells her about all the games he's tried, of the kinds he likes and doesn't like. He tells her about the storyline of his favorite one, a shooter game with a quirky plot and interesting art and dynamics. It's nice to hear about his special interests, and that he had made friends with more of their teammates. It makes her heart happy.

Satya tells him of the devastating heat, though Mako had assured her that the Bush had regularly reached those temperatures and higher. He laughs at this, tracing the new tan lines exposed by her light cotton shirt and shorts.

"Y' did get pretty dark," he comments. "Looks good on ya."

Satya has to resist the urge to shiver at the feel of his fingertips along her legs, grateful he can't see her blush in the dark.

"Thank you," she says, her voice coming out maybe a touch more sultry than she means it to.

If he notices, he doesn't show it. He merely lets out a big yawn, curling into her side. They must look silly, she thinks, his large and spindly form sprawled over her, his head practically nuzzling into her chest.

"Wake m' up in th' mornin'," he mumbles, drowsiness clearly beginning to overtake him. "Missed gettin' brekkie with ya."

She smiles, playing with his hair for a moment, allowing herself this moment of unabashed tenderness. She'll feel bad in the morning, as if she has taken advantage of his friendship. She meant to tell him tonight, she truly did, but it had all felt so good to fall into their routine again.

She adores the way he feels cuddled into her, his warmth and weight comforting in the darkness of the night. She feels her own sleepy haze addling her brain, and despite the anxiety of the situation, it's the first time she's been able to relax in over a month.

If it all falls apart tomorrow, at least she had one more night like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i roast phoenix because it roasts me in turn.


	12. how i'm imaginin' you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'd be the last shred of truth   
> in the lost myth of true love  
> i'd be the sweet feeling of release  
> mankind now dreams of 
> 
> talk // hozier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um, please be noted. this chapter is definitely rated M folks.

Despite everything, sleep is the most restful she's had in ages.

She sleeps deeply, vividly, the comforting warmth encompassing her as she sleeps filtering into her dreams, too.

She dreams of warm hands on her thighs, tangling through her hair, Jamie's hot mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat. She gasps out, outstretches fingers clutching at the pillows and sheets above her.

 _"Jamie_ ," she breathes out, voice distant and dreamy. He drifts down to kiss her core, and she whimpers. It's just a tease, hot breath fanning over her wet lips, throbbing in time with her heartbeat. She's dripping, clenching around nothing, and she desperately bucks her hips for something, anything—

" _Please_ ," she begs, eyes fluttering closed, reaching to grab him, to feel his skin on hers. " _Touch me, Jamie._ "

Then she wakes up, blushing and flushed, chest heaving as if she's woken up from a nightmare. Jamie is pressed firmly against her back, his hand splayed over her belly. At some point in the night, her shirt has ridden, and his fingers linger ever so gently on the soft band of skin that meets the waistband of her shorts. He breathes soft and steady on the side of her neck and by her ear, just like in her dream, and she resists the urge to shiver.

 _No wonder I had a dream like that_ , she thinks to herself, trying to remind herself to cool off. The room is chilly, air conditioning whirring lowly in the background, but she's practically drenched in sweat.

She stirs a bit, moving her arm to shake the numbness out of it from laying on it all night. Jamie squirms and cuddles into her and—

Wait.

 _Is he...grinding on me_?

She feels something hard press against her, his breathing hitching slightly though still asleep, she thinks. The hand that's splayed over her waist pulls her against him ever so gently, feebly through a sleepy fog and he—okay. Yes, he is definitely grinding into her, apparently having an erotic dream of his own.

Satya wants to scream. She can't believe this is happening to her.

It feels like the room is spinning, her heart pounds in her chest and her face is flushed dark. This is what she deserves, clearly, for taking advantage of his friendship. Yes, the gods have determined that she is going to be subjected to the worst, most shameful kind of torment. Stuck in a bed with the man she's pining after, while he grinds his erection into her after she's woken up from a sex dream about him.

She mumbles a curse to herself and slowly tries to unpeel herself from Jamie, as gently as she can to...freshen up in the bathroom.  He grumbles behind her and tries to pull her closer, still completely unaware of his hard-on even as he slowly seems to be gaining some kind of consciousness.

"Y' said y'd get brekkie w'me," he mumbles, almost completely unintelligible between his accent and the sleep in his mouth.

"We will," Satya reassures, thankful that he can't see the way her hands shake. "I just need to shower, Jamie. Go back to sleep."

He mumbles something, eyes never really opening. He finally allows her to slip out of bed, flopping over on his stomach to sprawl out the moment she does so. He practically buries his face in her pillow, inhaling the scent of her with the only kind of unabashedness that comes from being half-asleep.

She quickly strides over to his attached bathroom, turns on the shower and locks the door behind her, barely suppressing a scream. Looking at herself in the mirror, she can see her mussed hair, the flush beneath her skin. She feels the wetness sitting uncomfortable in her pants, and she's almost embarrassed with how wet she is after she peels off her shorts and underwear, laden with an incriminating dark spot.

Satya steps into the steaming shower to wash away the sweat and grime, and hopefully calm her down. But it doesn't do much—if anything, it all makes it worse. She usually tends to shower in her own room, the walk down the halls taking only a few extra minutes in her routine. She's encompassed in the comforting, maddening scent of his soap, her mind flashing back to him in her dream.

She can't help but bite her lip as she allows her hand to slide down and rub at her clit, releasing a breathy sigh. She knows realistically that her own breathing can't be heard over the running showerhead, but she's worried he'll hear her. He's just on the other side of the door, and she can't stop the fantasies from running through her mind as she continues to touch herself.

> —Jamie opens the door, and it startles her at first, until she sees the hungry look in his eyes. He kisses her with a deep fervor, with the same unrestrained passion he has for everything else in life. He bites and bruises at her lips, but she doesn't mind. She adores the attention, the way he grabs mercilessly at her, the rough pad of his thumbs trailing along her chin, her neck, her nipples.
> 
> When he fills her, it's spectacularly full, his cock pulsing red hot inside of her. He presses her thigh to her chest, ankle resting on his shoulder as he pounds into her, no doubt creating a racket for whoever is on the other side of this wall. She moans and cries for him, pussy clenching and shuddering around him.
> 
> "Jamie!" She pleads breathlessly, trying so desperately to look up at him, even though her eyes threaten to roll into the back of her head. "Oh, fuck, Jamie—"

Shuddering, Satya comes on her own fingers, legs straining with the waves of her orgasm. Her clit throbs underneath her own gentle touch, allowing her to ride her hand through the aftershocks of it all. She's slid down the bathtub, legs splayed open as much as they can be in the tight fit, shower continuing to run above her, steam pouring off of the water.

She takes a moment to recover, to exist as a human again, enjoying the white noise of the shower and blood rushing through her ears. She hasn't had an orgasm that satisfying in...well, a while.

And she was fantasizing about _Jamie_!

She holds her head in her hands. She was going to have to resolve this soon.

One way or another.

* * *

 

Jamie wakes up painstakingly alone.

He groans as he realizes there is no warm Satya next to him, no one to cuddle into, no one to grind into—

Wait…one fuckin' second.

He groans in realization of the throbbing between his legs and the uncomfortable wet spot of his briefs. Well, now he's _grateful_ to any god above that Satya isn't here.  Huffing over on his back and adjusting himself within his pants, he realizes that the shower is running.

He doesn't…remember her showering in his room before, usually preferring to go to her room to use all of her fancy smelly shit, but it's not like it's a big deal. Mostly, he's worried that she had woken up with his dick stabbing at her.

Jamie sighs, trying to will his almost painful erection away, gulping down some cool water he had stashed next to the bed. He changes his clothes, wiping himself down with his already soiled underwear and puts on some fresh clothes to go to breakfast in, thankful he's already softening up.

He didn't realize that Satya had brought spare clothes to change in, though they're much more casual than her usual wear. She smiles at him, cheeks flushed from her warm shower.

"Good morning, Jamie," she greets, a cheerful chirp in her voice. "How did you sleep?"

A stab of anxiety runs through him, but he plays it off. She could be genuine, right? "Much better next t' ya, that's for sure."

She smiles warmly at him as she finishes unbraiding her thick hair from it's tight updo. She had said once she did that to keep it from getting wet, no need to wash it every day or deal with the "ordeal" of drying it more than a few times a week.

"Same here," she says, pulling on her flats. "Ready for breakfast?"

He's not sure what it is about today, but something feels _off_.

It could be plenty of things, he realizes. It could be that he woke up with an aching dick this morning after another…particularly vivid dream about the woman he _slept next to_ all night. It could be that he finally got his first good nights' sleep in almost a month, and things seem just a little fuzzy the way they do when he's properly alert. It could be the strange looks Hog keeps giving both of them over breakfast, and even though Jamie can't see his eyes, he _knows_ Hog is giving him a skeptical glance over eggs.

Even fiddling in the workshop feels strange. Satya's back with her idle hums and music filling the room once more, things back to a rhythm that's been out of step for weeks now. As she practically twirls around him at their stations, building flawless construct after construct, he can't help but smell her.

She smells like his soap, and something twinges in him at the thought. She still smells like _her_ , underneath it all, but with his own scent intermingled atop, it's enough to make him crazy.

Jamie actually has to take a breather using the restroom before lunch. Mercy'd said something like this might happen as the radiation treatment started taking effect, more testosterone flooding his body. She'd _specifically_ said he might start feeling hornier — well, okay, in more technical terms, but that's what it boils down to.

So…this is just that, right?

He's got a gorgeous fuckin' woman sleeping next to him at night, smelling like all her flowery goodness and _him_ , sharing tender moments with him and…

The quickie he gets in before lunch is, hopefully enough to calm his stupid dick down long enough to last until his shower tonight.

Spoiler alert: It isn't.

* * *

 

The confident demeanor she had gained from her post-masturbation adrenaline that morning had long worn off. The anxiety about the entire _situation_ with Jamie is again back, nauseating her so deeply she's surprised she kept anything down for lunch.

When Jamie comments on it, she decides to take the chance before she can think enough to stop herself 

"Yes, um, about that…"

"What's up, Sat?"

"Jamie, I have to tell you something," she says quickly, the words almost mumbling together. She can feel her face is hot, as if she's back in America again sizzling under the hot sun. "It’s important."

He looks startled, concerned, just like he was back in Cannes. "What's wrong?"

She glances around at the cafeteria, where thankfully it is just the two of them sitting at the table, but other quietly converse around them, smiling and laughing. She shakes her head.

"It's…um, private. Can we go to your room?"

"Of course, Sat."

He is almost infuriatingly accommodating, and she know that this will only make it harder to tell him. It will only make it harder when he becomes disgusted with her, when he throws her out and refuses to meet her eyes ever again. When she has to sleep at night without him, remembering what they almost could have had —

As they step into his room, she forces herself to take a deep breath.

This isn't Vishkar. This is Overwatch, this is _Jamie_ , and she cannot allow herself to sink into these kinds of thinking patterns. No matter how easy it is, how easily it has been encoded into her.  

"First, I just remembered somethin' I been tryin' to think of all day," he says, and her anxiety grows ever more nauseating. "Yeah, so... uh... why'd ya tell Roadie we were fuckin'?"

Satya blinks, her entire body freezing in an instant. " _Excuse me_?"

Jamie laughs nervously then, a deep red flush filling his own cheeks.  "Roadie said you told 'im somethin' about us rootin', and, uh, well—"

"What on _earth_ does that have to do with us having sex?"

Okay, she's not nervous anymore. She's mad now, anger turning the knotting in her stomach ever more sour. For such a tall, built man, he does seem to cower quite well.

 Jamie just stares at her. "Y'know...rootin'?"

Satya gives him a hard stare. He bursts out laughing, tears pulling at the corners of his eyes.

"Y—Y'don't know what rootin' is!" He laughs still, despite the anger and indignation that is quickly filling her. "Oh, this is right funny!"

"Is it?" She hisses, arms crosses tightly across her chest. "I must have missed out on the joke."

"You're pretty when y'get mad, y'know."

" _Jamison_!"

"Okay, okay," he mumbles, and despite his laughter of it all, she is still quite angry with him. He can definitely sense it, refusing to meet her scowling eyes, instead finding a patch of floor next to him quite intriguing all the sudden. "Uh, in Oz, uh— rootin' is another word for fuckin'. Sounds t'me like, uh, Roadie heard y'say somethin' about rootin' and took it wrong."

Satya's heart drops completely into her stomach, anger dissipating in an instant. Oh, gods. _That_ was why Mako had so easily read her, had assumed —

Damn it all! If it wasn't for something stupid, some…turn of phrase that she hadn't realized didn't translate through bloody _slang_ of all things, Mako never would've said anything and…

Well, she'd still be in this predicament anyway.

They laugh it off as she thinks about this, idly nodding and politely chuckling to whatever he's saying. They sit close on his bed, hip to hip, knee to knee. She wonders for a moment when exactly she became so comfortable with him.

She supposes it all changed after Cannes. The way that he held her while all she could think about was Sanjay, of all the ways he violated her and her trust, of all the toxic, evil things she did in his name, and all of it lies. But Jamie was real — _is_ real, in front of her. Genuine, caring, loving.

"So…what's it y'wanted to tell me, Sat?"

"Jamie, I..." She takes a deep breath, refusing to look him in the eyes, realizing she's going to have to spill it all, one way or another. Isn't it better to be revealed in a horrifically honest spewing of word vomit?

"I have...feelings for you, and I don't quite know what they are. I don't know if I'm infatuated with you, or if I'm just...attracted to you. But the point is that I'm attracted to you. I find myself thinking about you constantly, but I don't know what the lines are between friendship and physical attraction and amorous intentions. It—It's all so damn confusing! I feel so awful for lying to you, deceiving you, for sleeping in your bed with you while I have these feelings. I feel as though I've taken advantage of your friendship."

To her dismay, Jamie's face is horrifically blank, and the thundering of her heart in her chest plummets to her stomach. She gets up, practically tripping over her own feet in her haste.

"I shouldn't have said anything, I've spoiled it, I'm so sorry—"

"Satya, wait." She doesn't think she's ever heard his voice be so firm and clear, his already bright eyes burning into her own. "Just—Just come sit back down with me, yeah?"

She does, hands wringing in her lap, palms clammy and shaking. Wordlessly, he takes one in his and plays with it, like he always does. He skims across her knuckles with the rough calluses of his own, traces the lines of her palms with a featherlight touch. It's a way they stim together, something they do almost mindlessly as they talk before bed. It has a different tone to it now, gentle and careful in a way it wasn't before.

"I'm not good at this shit," he admits, his eyes locked onto the sight of their joined hands. She's forced to turn to face him so that their flesh hands touch, and she can feel his cool breath fan across her face.  "Growin' up in the middle of the apocalypse ain't really good for makin' friends, or much of anythin' else really."

"I can hardly say I'm an expert either," she murmurs reassuringly.

"An' maybe this is way too fuckin' forward of me—"

"Can't  be any worse than mine," she laughs.

"But I can't lie to ya, Sat. You're..." He pauses, rubbing circles just a little more fervently into her palm, the tips of his ears flushing. "You're fuckin' smokin', alright, an' I can't deny I've had more than a few fantasies 'bout ya."

Something in Satya's heart swells, her gut churning in that stomach-dropping turn of sudden arousal. She has to bite her lip to keep her mouth shut, though she squeezes Jamie's hand in her own.

"More importantly than that, you're the first real friend I've had since Hog." He chuckles for second, barely a whisper. "That don't say much, I know, since he's my only friend… But I care about ya a lot."

Her hands tremble in his, and for a moment he forces her to look up, a soft hand tilting her chin up ever so gently. His smile is gentle, even with a situation as awkward and sudden as this.

"An'...I dunno, Sat. I'm not good with words an' I don't know shit about shit. But seems to me like a mutual attraction ain't really a problem at all."

There's a pause, and his eyes flash up to look at hers, hungry and vivid.

Even in it all, he's still so damn genuine. That's her favorite thing about him, she thinks. She doesn't have to worry if this is all a front, if this is him just trying to appease her. She knows that when he says _yes_ he means it.

"Yes," she murmurs. "That...would be the logical conclusion..."

"But?"

"But what about the mess of the other feelings, Jamie? What if we start something that we can't finish? What if we start something that hurts us both in the end? What if it jeopardizes our relationship within the team, our comraderie—"

"Satya, stop worryin' about all these fuckin' _what ifs_! You'll drive yourself fuckin' mad with it!"

"Then what should we do, Jamie?"

He takes a breath, his soothing motions inching further and further up her arm. "We play it by ear. Don't keep any secrets. Tell each other how we're feelin'. See where it takes us."

She takes a deep shuddering breath. The uncertainty is terrifying, not knowing where you stand with someone, where the road will take her. But she supposes that is her life now. Before she came to Overwatch, her entire life was laid out in a simple roadmap before her. She could name a year and figure out where she would be, what she would be doing, who she would be working under.

_See where it takes us…?_

It's a mess now, full of chaos, uncertainty, and a deliberately foggy future. She can't even tell what the next day will hold, nonetheless the next month, the next year.

What was the point of tossing out the corruption and evil that came with certainty, if she couldn't embrace a little wholesome chaos every now and then?

"Okay," she whispers. His eyes flash up to hers, smoldering as he seems to stare into her very soul. "We take it day by day."

Satya reaches out to him, the shivers of excitement and adrenaline coursing through her, the soft pads of her fingers tracing along the contours of his cheekbones, his jaw. His skin is rough underneath hers, the scruff of his recently shaved beard delectable under her touch. Their eyes never leave each other, his own hand skimming the edge of her thigh, as if waiting for her permission.

"I think I know where to start," she murmurs, her eyes flashing lower just for a moment, before meeting his once more.

Jamie grins for just a moment, eyes softening, before he pulls her in and kisses her.

His lips are cracked, and his breath still smells like their lunch, but Satya can't find it in herself to mind in any way. It is a delectable experience, breath shivering out in shallow gasps when they pull away, only for one of them to dive right back in. He smells deliciously intoxicating, like the soap she had allowed herself to practically drown in during her tryst in the shower this morning, and the sharp tang of metal.

His hands ghost along the thickness of her thighs, the curve of her waist, and it doesn't take long for her to tire of the awkward angle, kissing like a couple of teenagers having their first snog. She settles in to crawl onto his lap,  both of them giving each other breathless chuckles as they try to awkwardly coordinate between both switching positions and continuing to kiss each other.

Their hands pull and grab at each other, something within them finally released with their first eager, waiting touches. Satya is so glad that she is what she would normally consider "underdressed" for a day on base, instead of doing herself up in her usual work fashion. It makes for kissing and…other activities more than a touch easier.

Jamie's hand slips underneath her shirt, playing at the same bit of her stomach that had been driving her crazy just this morning. She knots her hands in the loose fabric of his tank top, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against her own. She gasps into his mouth as he roughly palms at her ass with his other hand, feeling her stomach flutter enticingly.

" _Jamie_ ," she breathes, breaking away from their heated kiss for a moment, eyes hooded as she tries her best to look at him.

He growls for a moment at that, bucking up into her. He kisses her neck, hot and open-mouthed, and she gasps again at the goosebumps that prickle along her arms.

"I fuckin' love it when y' say my name like that," he murmurs, pressing a sharp bite to her neck.

Satya can't help the loud whimper that leaves her mouth, and she finds herself suddenly flipped over, back to the mattress. It's not that she has ever really forgotten how… _built_ Jamie is, but it is in this moment that is she suddenly vividly aware of it. His biceps strain as he grips the sheets around her head, as if resisting some kind of primal urge. He can toss her around without breaking a sweat, and damn if that doesn't set something alight in her.

 Jamie hovers over her, hunger burning like coals in his eyes, as he kisses down her body. His grip is white hot on her, and she knows she should be more embarrassed of the sounds like that leave her mouth, but she can't help how quickly and easily they escape. He makes satisfied groans and growls as he works down her body, his own noises of contentment help her feel a little less self-conscious, at the very least.

"Can I?" he murmurs, calloused fingertips skimming along the waistband of her leggings, thumb dipping in just low enough to send excited shivers down her spine.

" _Please_ ," she breathes, voice barely able to contain itself.

He pulls off her pants and underwear in one swift movement, and she's so surprised by the sudden cool air she almost yelps. She had expected at least — _just_ — c'mon! She wore her lingerie! The least he could do was look at it!

He bites his lip, looking hungrily down at her, hands stroking her smooth thighs. She wants to blush at the way he's practically staring down her vulva, before he gives her a slowly deepening grin.

"Y'got such a pretty fuckin' pussy," he groans, voice low and gravelly, using a thumb to tease at her folds.  She lets out a whimper, practically squirming beneath his too-gentle touch. "You're so fuckin' wet for me, baby."

Satya had never quite had a partner this talkative in bed, or in such a lewd fashion, though…

She can't say she doesn't enjoy it.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

He delves in between her folds with two gentle fingers, eliciting a gasp from her. She's practically dripping wet, her slick making his fingers slide in without any resistance. He groans, kissing at her thighs, tracing his tongue teasingly around her clit. It's so good, so warm and filling, she clenches involuntarily around his fingers at the pleasure.

"Fuck, Sat," he growls, curling his fingers upwards and making her let out a high pitched whine. "God, you feel so fuckin' good, so fuckin' good…"

Satya turns her face to hide into a pillow, breathing growing heavier and heavier. She whines, disappointed, as his fingers abruptly leave her, only to feel them on her jaw, turning her head back towards him.

"Don't hide y'pretty face from me, love," he breathes. His golden eyes lock onto hers, the intensity of their gaze making her dizzy with arousal all over again. He presses his thumb to her lips and she sucks it in almost instantly, tasting the sweetness of herself without so much as a bat of an eye.

Jamie wants to pretend he's not affected by it, but she can feel the way he involuntarily bucks his hips into hers, and she takes no time in wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him in closer. She can make him just as flustered — even a man as unpredictable as Jamie has the same weaknesses as all the others.

"Jamie," she murmurs, eyes hooded as she gazes up at him, kissing his hand as she slowly sits up. "You are _far_ too clothed for this."

"R-Right," he mumbles, a deep flush surging across his cheeks, obscuring the freckles she has come to love. They both pulls off their shirts and fling them somewhere across the room, and she allows herself a moment of appreciation as he clumsily fumbles with his belt.

She watches as his muscles contract and pull, big and defined, surely, but not overbearing. Gods, he certainly is _exactly_ her type, why hadn't she realized it before?

His cock finally springs out of his pants and he lets them drop to the ground without a care, fumbling with his prosthetic leg for a moment before there is a click, and he shucks it to the floor all the same. She meets him in that instant, pulling him to the bed with her, kissing him with a newfound fervor.

"Let me return the favor," she murmurs huskily, nipping at the long column of his throat.

He practically squeaks when she takes hold of his cock in her hand, thighs spreading more open for her. He is of average length she determines from her own blind ministrations and the occasional glance, but deliciously thick underneath her fingers. He shudders under her, deep groans leaving his throat and her handiwork on his cock becoming more and more fluid as his pre-cum leaks.

Satya dips her head to trail down his abdomen, before he pulls her back up in an instant to kiss her. He looks so cute like this, she thinks. He shivers beneath her, gasping and trying (and failing) desperately not to buck into her hand.

"Y'can't," he breathes, taking the chance to sit up and pull her on top of his lap. She gasps, clit rubbing against his aching hard-on, and she can't resist grinding onto it. "Haven't—ungh, done this in a while, might spoil our fun early, if y'know what I mean."

Satya's brief chuckle develops into more breathy sighs as he bites and sucks at her neck. "Don't—ah, worry about that much. I'm so pent up it won't take me much, either."

She pulls him up with a gentle finger to his chin, kissing him deeply as they grind together. She finally reaches down, rubbing her slick lips along his cock before sinking down on it. They share a collective moan, grasping at each other as Satya slowly circles her hips.

"Fuck," they practically sigh together.

He kisses her again, hand tenderly brushing her thick hair from her forehead, the lightest sheen of sweat beginning to accumulate.

"Y'feel so fuckin' good," he murmurs, a hand on her hip, bucking gently underneath her. She can't tell if it's because he doesn't have enough leverage or if he's letting her set to the pace. "How're ya so tight, fuckin' fuck Satya…"

Satya bites her lip and lets out an embarrassingly loud moan as he bucks up deep into her, hitting her inside _just so_. She sees the mischievous glint in his eyes as he grasps more firmly at her hips, caressing the thickness of her curves.

"Right there, baby?"

"Uh huh," she whimpers, arms wrapping around his neck. "Yes, there Jamie, _please_."

Jamie begins to buck into her, and she realizes suddenly that he _definitely_ has all the leverage he needs. She digs her nails into his back, moaning as he thrusts into her over and over. He feels exquisite inside of her, and even if it has "been a while" for him, he certainly lacks no talent or finesse.

Not that she needs much of either right now. She hasn't been touched by another person intimately in…well, at least since she left Vishkar. Months, now, then? She can feel the pleasure rising steadily within her, and she can't deny that this might be the best sex she's ever had.

Most of the partners she had been with, it was a relationship of convenience. Relationships were not only practically unmanageable within and between Vishkar employees, but also highly frowned upon. There had been no emotions other than lust and pent-up sexual frustration, and the experiences had only ever totaled up to satisfactory.

What she has right here with Jamie, in this moment, is raw and real, more satisfying that any arrangement of convenience she has partaken in. She is just as much invested in his pleasure as he is, and she knows he can't wait to unravel her. She knows he'll take pride in it, commit her face to memory.

"'S right, Satya," he says breathlessly, a growl at the end of his words. He leans back,  one hand moving to rub at her pulsing clit and the other to play with a nipple. She lets out a fluttering moan at that, moving against him with as much eagerness. "Bounce on my cock, baby. 'S feel good?"

" _Yes, Jamie_ ," she whimpers, the rhythm of her hips growing more and more erratic. "I'm close, you feel so g—ha, so good, in me."

Satya's pretty sure the entire floor can hear them at this rate — anyone who's in the dorms this time of day, anyway. Which thankfully amounts to a slim number of people, and maybe, if she's lucky, Athena has kindly rerouted everyone to a different part of the base. But she can't find it in herself to care, moans growing louder and louder.

"Gonna come for me, baby?"

"F-Fuck, Jamie, I'm—"

"'S right, Sat, 's okay. Come for me, c'mon now, 's right—"

He increases his thrusting in fervor, slamming perfectly into her with every stroke, fingers brushing perfectly against her clit. Between the raw _feel_ of his dick inside of her, his words, and _him_ , wrapped around her just as much as she is around him, the coil inside of her finally releases.

Satya's eyes roll back and she lets out a long, low groan, hips stuttering against his. It feels _so_ delicious, his fingers still rubbing at her pulsing, oversensitive clit. He ruts up into her in quick, shallow thrusts before he finally whimpers, a newfound heat flooding her. They grind against each other gently in the aftershocks of both of their orgasms, filling the otherwise deafening silence with breathy gasps and whimpers.

Finally, she pulls up, his cock a sticky mess of both of their cum, and flops onto the mattress besides him. He doesn't move, slumped against the wall, half sitting and half laying down. Both of them just breathe together for a moment, feeling their heartbeats finally thrum down to resting.

Satya feels as if she just ran a mile, sweat cooling on her brow and the satisfaction that only comes as the rush of adrenaline leaves her body.

"Holy shit," she breathes out, unable to summarize her feelings in any words more comprehensible.

"Fuckin' ditto, love," he says, voice just as breathy and twice as gravelly. "Dreams didn't live up to how fuckin' good your pussy is."

"Dreamt about this, hmm?"

"Like y'didn't."

"Touché."

There is a comfortable silence, filled only with the softest of contented hums, of their limbs slowly tangling together. It's the same as it always was, but…more comfortable, somehow. She doesn't know if she's attributing that to the fact that they're both naked, the post-orgasm afterglow or if it just _is_. Somehow, she doesn't think she's going to question it much.

"So, uh, my name still feel good in y'mouth?"

She groans, though she can't help the traitorous smile that spreads across her face. "I knew I shouldn't have told you that."

"'M countin' that as a yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> geez, i think this is my first attempt at actually putting smut in a real story and note just some horny one-shot. 
> 
> i definitely did not intend for this to happen so quickly after confessing, but it flowed so well and i figured...fuck it.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to follow me on tumblr/twitter @borzbois!


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